Chosen
by Kurai Shukujo
Summary: A recent string of gruesome murders and a fateful mission lead Youji into the world of a satanic cult with Aya, his current obsession, playing a key role. Revised!
1. Chapter 1

**Chosen** (edit/rewrite/revision)

By: Shukujo Kurai

Series: Weiß Kreuz

Warnings: shounen-ai, OOC, supernatural (for lack of better terms)  
Rating: NR yet

Disclaimer: I do not own Wei Kreuz and I really wouldn't want to either. Why not? Too much responsibility. But it's nice to borrow them for this fic. ^.^

Author's Notes: This fic is based off of a nightmare I had. So far, it's extremely unfinished and I promise that later chapters will be more serious and...dark. *sweatdrop*

6 years later - still unfinished. Now I'm working on editing and rewriting bits to make everything flow better. I hope. Please comment/review. I'd really appreciate the help.

Do you ever just wonder about exactly WHAT your purpose in life is? Well, I do. Rather often, at that. I have come to the conclusion that my sole purpose in life is to annoy the hell out of others. What a goal to have in life. I have found no other strengths in my character. I mean, look, I drink too much, I smoke like a chimney in Asahikawa, I'm always late for things, I can't remember the simplest of to-do lists, I'm the epitome of laziness, not to mention the fact that I seem to have the natural talent for being an ass.

You see, I just got yelled at, for the eleventh time today, for being "preoccupied", as Aya so eloquently puts it. Damn heartless bastard. I mean hell yell at Ken for dropping everything! I'm not "preoccupied". I am, in fact, pondering the meaning of my pitiful excuse of an existence. Why do I have to always be the subject of his unique talent? (Aya would make one hell of a drill sergeant.) Oh yeah, because I'm the one who's seen as constantly screwing things up.

Dear God: my life sucks. Can I trade it in for a better one?

------

I can see Aya glaring at me from the register. It's not unusual, but today he appears to be considering taking action against my preceived laziness.

"Work." One sharp, biting command is usually all it takes. Today, however, I just look up at him with an unintelligible expression in my eyes and went back to my musings.

Aya pounds his fist into the cabinet near us both. "Now!"

This time, I lifted my head to glare at him before reading the slip of paper and shoving it back to the redhead. "You expect me to make something for a birthday party?" I ask, drawing myself to my full height instead of leaning against the countertop. I'm not sure what good it'll do; not much intimidates Aya. "Maybe a mortician's birthday!" I snap, tossing an arm over toward the arrangement that I'd made earlier.

Aya follows the gesture and shrugs at the sight. Dark flowers, few and far between, arranged in a simple yet rather boring design. "So?" He grumbles, not yet seeing my point.

I growl somewhere deep in my throat. He writes out the orders, so he should know what it's for. "That's for a BABY SHOWER." I spit, glaring at Aya as though he were evil incarnate. Well, not really. Very little could make me truly angry at Aya. "Nothing like having your flowers practically shout, 'look, I'm going to be spawning Satan.'" I argue anyway, making funny little hand gestures the entire way.

Aya blinks softly before possibly realizing that the statement had actually been quite funny, in it's own twisted little way.

"Everything I've made today has turned out to be dark and depressing." I swing my arm, displaying the other gothic-esque arrangements.

Aya says nothing, but turns back toward the register only to return with a different piece of paper. "There." He shoves the order at me, duly ignoring me when I roll my eyes and pick up the paper slip.

"A wake." I state dully, utterly thrilled with this new task. I turn my gaze back onto Aya, a slightly teasing glint in my eyes. I don't really want him angry for the rest of our shifts. "If the ones for baby showers look like that," again I gesture to the depressing bouquet, "then I don't want to know what the ones for wakes will turn out to look like." I then set about to bringing havoc upon the unresisting flowers.

--------

A mission. ANOTHER freaking mission. We had another surveillance one last night and IT lasted into the unholy hours of this morning. Well, to be fair, it ended probably no later than I would normally get home when I go out, but missions make early mornings much less satisfying. Kritiker has a death wish for us all. Watch them stick me with being the mole or bait, just watch them. Aya will be needed elsewhere, he being better suited for the job, whatever it is. Ken looks too clueless to remain unnoticed and Omi's WAY too young for most things. This mission just so happens to be at a club therefore I fit in perfectly.

Yep, I'm the damned mole. Joy upon everlasting joy. My day cannot get much better. I can't help but to give a soft sigh. One night of peace is all I ask we've had nearly back-to-back missions for what seems like months. Everyone's on edge because of it, especially me and Aya.

Recently Kritiker's had us investigating clubs in the search of a cult - Satanic, they believe. Unfortunately, no one else in Wei has been privvy to this little morsel of information. Manx and Briman both caught me one day at separate times to fill me in on aspects of this cult. It's really nothing more than a rumour, if you ask me. My superiors, however, seem to be convinced that this (particularly well hidden) cult is linked to a series of missing persons. Well, that aspect is nothing different from most of our missions. It seems to be that all our missions involve new illicit drugs or human trafficking. Why they feel this cult will be based out of a club is beyond me. Granted, most club patrons are prime targets for charismatic leaders impressionable youths searching for a place to fit in, a reason to keep going on with life in the daytime. Saying that makes me wonder why they won't send Ken or Omi in... The target would be more likely to hone in on them, but even I can't fully see either of them playing along long enough to validate Kritiker's suspicions. Ken's more of the the 'beat-em-to-a-pulp-first, ask-questions-to-their-unconscious-bodies-afterwards' kind of guy. Omi, well, I know the kid can handle himself and I know that he's been groomed for this kind of life since before most of us even thought assassins were real, but I think we all still try to shelter the kid from most things.

Meh. Bait duty calls.

-  
The club is loud, smelly, and full of idiots - as per usual. When I come in, I have to dodge one drunkard after another and slide stealthily around people with - ahem - unusual body proportions. Ah, the clubbing life at its best. For some reason, I always look back at the people trying to dance on the floor. Trying being the key word there. It's just a bunch of idiots jumping around and attempting to shake their bodies to the beat of the music. Not exactly dancing, if you ask me. Not all clubs are like this, certainly not the ones I frequent. Aya's right, though; I fit in here. Well, except for the goth part.

I can't help but to sigh at that. He must hold me in the lowest possible regard; like a self-righteous saint looks upon the prostitute. Disgust. Pure and simple.

Sometimes I start thinking about what the others would do if I left Weiss and I grow more depressed immediately afterward. Omi'd worry, but Ken would take his mind off of things. Aya'd well, be Aya. He'd go about his day as though nothing has happened, his teammate hadn't left or been killed. Good ol' reliable Aya.

I sigh softly before someone bumps into me, mumbling an apology. Okay I try to remember the details of the guy I'm targeting. Mm cult leader black hair about Schuldig's length dark red eyes, probably from contacts the usual psychopathic look. I glance around at the Goth scene. Well, THAT shouldn't be too hard to find. I grumble and set about my impossible task.

---------

About 125 Goths later, I walk up to the bar, intending on getting a simple glass of water. No need to have high-and-mighty-Aya on my ass about drinking on the job. Besides, I only want something cold and wet. Hundreds of bodies packed in to a relatively small space has a tendency to overheat the atmosphere a bit and that's before you take into account the hopping and gyrating.

Something flashes and smoke pours up beside me.

I blink, stupefied.

"I am the vampire Belial!" A faked-deep voice attempts to bellow. Another Goth pops out from the smoke, complete with fake fangs and bad monster make-up.

I continue to stare up at the person, blinking in apparent wonder.

"I vant to suuck yuur bluud!"

I blink in an attempt to NOT bust out laughing.

"Belial wasn't a vampire, it was a fallen angel that's often equated with Satan." The bartender informs my new friend.

Not about to be mocked, the 'vampire' grins a fang-y grin at us, apparently going to start another running monologue with himself. Instead, a rather rotund woman strolls up, a 'not-all-there' look on her face.

I have to laugh softly. She's dressed up as that 'bee-chick' from some American music video that I can't remember the name of. Sans the glasses at least but the antennae are included! "And who might you be?" I had to ask, my curiosity was killing me.

"I am Lilith " She replies in a zombie-like voice.

And that relates to the bee thing how?

"Okay, then why the bee outfit?" The bartender asks, apparently amused by this spectacle as much as I am.

"Bees are cool." She informs us dully.

Oh, the humanity! "A glass of water please." I ask the bartender, who's attempting not to laugh at the bee-lady. It isn't working.

"Buzzzzz Buzzzzz!"

This time, both the bartender and I end up doubling over with laughter. Oh my God, this is freakin' hilarious! I have to come here more often.

"You You DO know that Lilith wasn't a bee-lady, right?" The bartender manages to get out between laughter.

She stares at nothing. "Mmm buzz buzz!"

I can't hold it in any longer and I bust out laughing, even harder than before.

"Laugh not at my little bumblebee!" 'Belial' commands us.

"I can't help it!" The bartender informs him, "See in Jewish lore, Lilith was supposedly the first wife of Adam who was cast out of Eden for refusing to bow down to him. Also, she's said to be even the darkness mentioned in Genesis."

"And that really has nothing to do with bees." I add before taking a sip of my water.

"What's with you guys anyway? I mean, you don't have any special powers just by saying that you're some random demon that you found mentioned in a comic book." The bartender asks, leaning against the bar in preparation for the impending answer.

"I do so have powers!" Belial retorts, forgetting to use his bad Transylvanian accent. "I appear out from the evil mists of Hell!"

I blink. "You use smoke-bombs "

He frowns as the bartender chuckles.

"Come, sweet Lilith, let us leave these mortals' presence!" He announces as he lights another smoke bomb to 'vanish' with.

I fan the smoke away, almost missing their presence. "That was great." I tell the bartender. "Do you get people like that often?"

He looks around. "Every night. You're in a Goth club."

"Well, yeah, I knew that. I just thought that they might be a little more serious about it, you know?"

He looks at me as though I've grown another head, which wouldn't surprise me at the moment. "Those WERE the serious ones."

My eyes open widely before I start laughing again. "You've got to be kidding me "

"If you're into that sorta thing, try downstairs." He tells me as he hands me a card, leaning out into the light. Hm long dark blue hair and nice blue eyes with American features. Not my guy.

I take the card after examining him for a minute. "What's your name?" I ask curiously.

"Josh." He replies as he wipes off the bar. "You?"

"Youji."

"Cool name." He compliments me. "At least it's not Azazel or something like that." He adds with a wink.

"You seem to know about all this shit." I probe, attempting to stall and find out information at the same time. I really don't want to run into anymore insane persons tonight, as entertaining as they might be.

He smiles at me and looks back down at the bar. "I'm a theology major."

"Aa." I nod. "I always liked theology never got the chance to really study it though." I tell him for no real reason. It's not really the truth.

This seems to catch his attention. "You should come to class one day then." He grabs a nearby napkin and scribbles something on it with a pen. "Here. Come on Tuesdays at nineteen hundred hours."

I look down at the address. It's a legitimate college, I've delivered flowers there once or twice for professors or secretaries. "I'll do that." It's the truth. If it gets me leads to this mission and gets me the heck outta here, I'm all for it.

"See that big monkey-looking guy over there?" He asks, leaning over and pointing at a man in the corner.

"Yeah "

"That's the bouncer for downstairs. Just show him that card and he'll let you through."

I nod. "Okay, cool." I reach out to shake his hand. "It was nice meeting you and thanks."

"Nice meeting you too. Thanks for not being crazy." He adds with a wink before going back to cleaning the bar and hanging an air freshener where the vampire guy was.

Author's Note: Please review/comment!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chosen** (chapter two) (Edit)

By: Shukujo Kurai

Series: Weiß Kreuz

Warnings: slight shounen-ai, OOC, supernatural (for lack of better terms)

Rating: NR yet

Disclaimer: *sighs* I do not own Wei Kreuz and I really wouldn't want to either. Why not? Too much responsibility. But it's nice to borrow them for this fic.

Author's Notes: This chapter has literally haunted my dreams...well, the end of this one and the next one, if you want to get technical with it. But at least I now know how to make it pretty traumatizing! *sweatdrop*

_6 years later - still unfinished. Now I'm working on editing and rewriting bits to make everything flow better. I hope. Please comment/review. I'd really appreciate the help._

Dedication: To MD-neechan. This fic was supposed to be finished by Christmas...and it's already January 6th...*sighs again* Gomen. Thanks for being my editor! *huggles*

I sigh softly as I creep back into the Koneko. What an utter waste of my time. I hate finding out information on targets, I really do. That's Omi's job for a reason. Although that vampire-wannabe guy was pretty funny...

I never got the chance to investigate the downstairs of that particular club since Mr. High-and-Mighty ordered me on to the next goth club. I really wish Aya'd get his skinny ass out there and investigate these insane people if he wants the mission completed so badly.

I can already hear Ken complaining and I'm only half-way up the stairs. He's whining about how boring stakeouts are and how he gets so fidgety during them. Ken left ahead of Aya and myself. All Ken had to do was work on his bike outside the clubs, or at least within a block of them. Omi stayed at the Koneko to coordinate our efforts and continue researching possible suspects.

I ease the door open, the wooden barrier betraying me by screeching loudly as if to announce my arrival.

"Youji! Where on Earth have you been? We've been waiting on your report for hours!" Ken again.

I stop where I am and just stare at him from behind the safety of my sunglasses. What gives him the right to demand things from me? HE hasn't been wading through pools of goth-wannabes for nearly eight hours! Plus, the hours part is an exaggeration. I definitely left there as soon as was deemed less-than-conspicuous, but I did stop to grab a new pack of cigarettes on the way home. Nicotine is definitely necessary after the night I've had. I scowl as I turn around and walk back out the door, lingering after I shut it.

I hear Aya's soft whisper. "It's not his fault...I had him check out all the clubs in one night." Wow...Aya's taking the blame for me? Well, at least not letting it be placed on me. I walk to the mission room and look around. Nope, hell hasn't frozen over just yet.

I head down to the shop, look around, and sigh. Looks like I'll be getting an early start today... After a shower. I smell like smoke bombs.

----------

Overly-devoted fangirls and deaf old ladies are really not what I need right now. Nevertheless, the shop is full of them, or at least it seems full to me, but the somewhat swirling vision might be affecting that judgement a bit. Definitely need a nap.

I look over toward Aya, who's methodically making an arrangement for a church ceremony. Ghott, how I wish that I rated ABOVE pond scum to him. He turns and looks at me incredulously. "What about pond scum?" He asks before changing his mind. "Nevermind, I don't care." With that flippant remark, he goes back to the arrangement.

Why did he look over here? Did I say that out loud or something equally as embarrassing?

"Oh, Youji-kun, I'm sure you're better than pond scum in Aya-san's book." Some random old lady tells me as she pats my hand in consolation. She leans closer and I have to fight the instinct to flinch away. "In fact, I think he cares more for you than either of you would like to admit." She winks and nods in place of me.

"Somehow, I doubt that, 'kaasan." If she can be overly-friendly with me, I can do the same to her.

She shakes her head, not in the least deterred. "Back in my day, his demeanor was the norm. 'Stoic', they called it. It signified that the man could provide for his family without bringing any of his stress from work or finances home. Lessen their burden."

I nod. "Yeah, but can you see how it could be maladaptive in today's world?" I don't mean to sound flippant. It's just the truth.

She nods, conceding me that point. "That I can."

I blink behind my sunglasses. What the hell? I don't have time to think about it because Aya's shoving the arrangement at me. "Here you are, ma'am." I say politely as I hand her the flowers. If it gets her out of here as soon as humanly possible, I'm all for it.

I watch her slowly leave, occasionally looking back at us.

Speaking of 'us', Aya's still standing near me, which has got to be a record of some kind. To my surprise, Aya faces me and stares at me before tilting my sunglasses up. His mouth goes slightly to one side, a gesture denoting serious contemplation. Did I mention that I watch Aya a lot?

"You should get some sleep." He says before walking away. "I don't want to have you strangling yourself with your wire."

I don't bother to contemplate this remark. "Nice to know that you care, Aya..." I whisper to the air before turning around and tidying up the register area.

The ever-mysterious redhead walks back over and for a minute I wonder if he's going to apologize, but instead he just reaches for the hand-held broom.

The chimes on the door jingle obnoxiously, signaling the arrival of yet another personal hell.

I look up and am surprised to see the bartender from last night walking in, slightly bewildered. I walk over to him, purposefully ignoring the confused and possibly irritated looks that I'm getting from Aya. "Josh-san?" I ask, laying a gentle hand on his slender shoulder.

He turns and breaks into a broad grin. "Youji-san!" He shouts as he lunges forward to glomp me. "I didn't know you worked here!"

I nod. "Yeah...so what brings you here?" I ask, clumsily changing the subject.

"My brother..." He grumbles unhappily. "He wants some arrangement done, but he's too chicken to come in here himself so he sent me."

I chuckle in spite of myself. "Well, what does he want?"

-----------------

I sigh softly as I take a step backward to critique the arrangement. Yes, I got stuck with the god-awful task. I tried to hand the complex order to Aya, but he just snorted haughtily and walked off.

Spider orchids are so hard to work with. They just don't look right with anything. You can't hide them behind some random flower because their 'petals' stick out. The whole arrangement always ends up looking dead. Well, the entire arrangement IS rather gloomy, if you ask me. Well, Josh at least works in a goth bar.

Aya walks by and eyes the monstrosity in horror.

"Hey, HE wanted it like this..." I murmur in a pathetic attempt to defend my flower-arranging skills.

I vaguely register the annoying jingle as I glare at a particularly ugly orchid. "Josh, did you get distracted by something shiny again?"

I have to look up at that one. Another man walks in, apparently looking for my preoccupied friend. The first thing I notice is that he's Japanese while Josh is American. Rich brown eyes greet me as he comes closer. "Have you seen a boy with dark blue hair?"

I stand up. "He was right there just a second ago." I look around for the boy in question.

"Woo-hoo! Eat 'em up, there, little buddy!"

I turn toward the sound of the excited exclamation. Josh is busy watching a plant, his eyes wide and fascinated.

"Um....nevermind him....he never got out much as a child."

"Niichan! You've gotta come see this!" The other boy happily bounces, pointing to the plant.

Josh's older brother stares in embarrassment before shaking his head. "Did I mention that he's adopted?" He asks softly before going over to whatever Josh is pointing at.

What an odd family. I shake my head before picking up the arrangement and setting it on the counter. I glare balefully at it before noticing Aya's presence near me.

"Who is that?" He asks, reaching his word quota for the day.

I sigh. "That's Josh, he's a bartender in one of the goth clubs...that should explain the oddness..."

Aya nods in agreement.

"You write term papers on Philosophy and Religion in the Twenty-first century and you're astounded by a Venus Fly Trap?!" Josh's brother yells rather loudly.

"But niichan, it's a flesh-eating PLANT. How can that NOT be cool?"

I lower my head and sigh in defeat. Why can't I attract smart people?

The taller man drags Josh away from the plant and up to the counter at last.

"Well, at least it wasn't something shiny..." I say sleepily as I hand them their order.

The elder man eyes it carefully, those honey-brown eyes entranced by the flowers before him, a smile growing on his lips. "It's perfect...just like from my dream." He looks back and forth between me and Aya, the awe-struck look still fresh in those brown eyes. His gaze finally rests on Aya. "Did you make this?"

Aya just casually looks up and is about to give some sort of answer when Josh interrupts.

"Youji-kun made it. I watched him." Hm...I have been magically updated to the -kun status.

"It's perfect." The raven-haired man whispers softly before surprising me by embracing me from the other side of the counter.

When he finally releases me, Josh smiles that innocent smile of his and explains. "That's Hideo's way of saying 'thank you'."

"Um...you're welcome..." I mumble hesitantly, slightly embarrassed over being hugged by another guy in front of Aya. Plus, the randomness of it all is pretty damn creepy.

Josh's face then turns somewhat serious. "Are you going to be able to come Tuesday night?" His blue eyes widen to an advanced form of Omi's chihuahua eyes.

"You're busy." Aya snaps from across the room. Damn assassin hearing skills.

I can feel the rage building up... "I'll be there. No worries." I assure the wide-eyed boy with a wink.

Hideo pays for his arrangement and drags a protesting Josh from the shop, leaving me alone with a seemingly enraged Aya, who stares at me, one eye beginning to twitch.

I give a lopsided grin and shrug. "Never said I attract smart people."

Frustrated, Aya extends a stiff arm and points to a nearby calendar, landing on this coming Tuesday.

"Don't worry, I'll get everything done in time."

Aya's jaw clenches surreptitiously.

I sigh. "Aya, he offered to take me to a class on theology. I thought it would help with the mission." This is getting me nowhere fast. Damn Aya and his stubbornness.

"How is a class on theology going to help with a mission involving kidnappings?" He bites out, obviously unhappy with my suspicions. I forget sometimes that he hasn't been filled in on the full particulars of our mission.

"Just a wild hunch." I tell him just before heading to clean up, not wanting to hear whatever retort he'd undoubtedly come up with.

--------------

I never thought that Aya could be quite this childish. He has apparently come to the conclusion that I am not worth the breath it takes to acknowledge a person's presence. For the rest of our shift, he refused to speak to me or even look at me. Even smoking in the shop didn't provoke a reaction from him. Don't I feel loved?

I sigh softly and rest my head against the window in my room that I'm currently using as a seat. I glance down at the case files in my lap and find myself growling softly. It's not my fault that Kritiker feels that I can handle the darker side of this particular crime better than the others can. I honestly don't know where they came to that conclusion at. Kudou Youji and satanic crimes usually don't coincide.

The phone rings and I ignore it, as per usual.

Seventeen people kidnapped so far. Only two of the bodies have been recovered.

"Kudou! Phone!" Aya. So the little bastard finally decided to talk to me, eh? Well, sort of. It's not really his choice.

I hop off my windowsill and place the files in some semblance of order before quickly heading downstairs. No need to give Aya another reason to bitch at me.

I take the phone from an angry redhead who thrusts the plastic receiver at me the second I come within an arm's length. "Hm?" I ask, not feeling up to my usual perky greeting.

"Balinese, pack your references and the files into a nondescript backpack and meet me at the harbor nearest the Koneko." Manx informs me just before she hangs up. I sigh softly before running upstairs and doing as she ordered.

As I sprint back downstairs I am met with an angry Abyssinian blocking my way. "Aya, move now." I try to convey the fact that this is urgent, but he doesn't seem to be getting the hint.

"Who said that you can just leave whenever you feel like it? You have a double shift tomorrow because of Omi's exams, so I suggest that you haul your lazy ass back upstairs and stay there."

I blink in astonishment. The most Aya's ever said to me had to be when he's criticizing me and giving me orders. Plus...did he not recognize the voice? "Aya, I don't have time for this..."

"Neither do I, so do as I say."

What a prickly bastard he is. "Not. Now. Aya." I bite out, forcing myself to hold back from strangling him with my wire.

"What is more important than this mission? Whoring yourself out to anyone who gives you a second glance certainly isn't."

I lose my control and backhand him sharply across his right cheek. "Stay the hell out of my life, Fujimiya." I hiss before trying to pass him, only to be blocked once again. Luckily I deflect the punch aimed at my face. "God dammit, Aya!" Sometimes I forget that he's just as much of a scrapper as Ken.

The phone rings again, saving the redhead from impending death by strangulation. I hit the talk button and make some sort of noise.

"Balinese? What the hell are you doing still at the Koneko?! This is an emergency involving time-sensitive evidence!" Birman this time. For both of them to be on the scene, it must be important. Though why she decided to call immediately after Manx and then act astonished that I haven't left yet is beyond my comprehension.

"Sorry sweetie, I was just delayed. I'm on my way." Best to play it off as a date, that way Aya won't be able to draw conclusions other than those he already has. I hang up and try to leave once again only to find my 'superior' blocking my way again.

"There's no way I'm letting you leave this building." He whispers.

I scowl at him, unable to contain my rage any longer. In a matter of seconds, I have him up against a wall, hands pinned with one of mine, the other arm pressing against his throat and one knee pressing firmly against his groin. It's all I can do to keep from killing him. In a desperate move, my other knee shoots up and connects firmly with Aya's stomach, making him sputter and gasp for the air that my arm's not allowing him to obtain. I take the opportunity to make a quick exit, running (probably for my life) downstairs and to Seven.

Aya miraculously doesn't follow.

----------------

I arrive at the scene only to be met by very angry versions of Manx and Birman. They're obviously not happy with my being tardy, so I decide not to say anything to them.

"I believe that you owe us an explanation." Manx. At least she's trying to be polite; I know Birman wouldn't.

A scowl makes itself known on my face as I recall the earlier events. "Abyssinian." I say shortly before spotting two detectives talking to a hysterical woman.

"That's Hiketora Yuri, the victim's mother." Birman informs me, looking at the woman with an expression vaguely resembling sympathy.

Manx shifts next to me. "We were wondering if you would be the one to take her statement. The police aren't getting anywhere and, quite frankly, we'd rather not let them know any specifics of this crime."

I nod.

"We would also like you to examine the body." Birman. I can always expect her to be the authoritative one.

Again, I nod and start to move forward toward the flailing woman, frustrated detectives, and the lifeless body. Forgetting my manners, I go straight for the cold corpse. Make that a cold WET corpse. Immediately I guess the time of death, or at least the time that the body has been immersed in water, to be anywhere between five and fourteen days. Maybe less if the fish are REALLY hungry. Not much of precise timeframe, but I'm not a medical examiner.

One of the detectives spins me around shouting something at me. I start to reply, but Birman cuts me off with her best bitch tone. "THIS is Dr. Iyasu Satoshi." Immediately he repents and moves for me to do my 'job' while the other one hands me a pair of latex gloves. Of all the covers they've given me, this takes the cake as most unrealistic. Do I even look like a med school drop-out?

I take the gloves and put them on as I look over the body of what could have once been a very attractive boy. Any obvious signs of trauma have been hidden by the green-ish color that the skin has taken on, making it difficult for me to determine the exact cause of death on my own. From what I can tell by his clothes, he was probably an outsider, wearing neither the popular fashions nor the usual goth garb. Before I can look any further, the boy's mother latches onto my arm and starts babbling.

I immediately attempt to get her quiet by reassuring her as best I can. I try to convey to Manx that the body needs to be examined as quickly as possible, but she's engaged in conversation with a uniformed man. I manage to convince the woman that the detectives would like to hear her comprehensive statement and I turn my attention back to the body. I sigh and pull out a piece of paper and a pen from deep inside the bowels of my trenchcoat. Quickly, I make note of the tests I want done, well, more likely just the names of tests I can remember medical examiners using. CT scan, full-body X-rays, drug testing, and the like. In the sloppiest handwriting that I can muster (not an especially difficult task), I sign my assigned name at the bottom and then hand it to the paramedic to be given to the coroner or whoever handles those sorts of things in these parts of Tokyo.

Birman approaches me and informs me in a surprisingly quiet voice that we need to take Hiketora-san to a Kritiker-approved location and interrogate her as soon as possible. She hands me the address of the location and motions for me to go rescue the detectives.

"Hiketora-san?" My voice is scratchy and deep, but I manage to sound rather professional without alarming anyone. She turns to me and glares. Maybe professional isn't what I should be going for at the moment. "Would you please come with me? There are some questions that I'd like you to help me with, that is, if you don't mind being in the company of a boring young doctor." I tease, hoping that it will lighten her mood.

It does, thankfully, and she follows me to a car where Birman's waiting for us. I sigh. Why couldn't Manx have come instead of cranky-old Birman? Plus, I hate the very idea of leaving Seven at a harbour. I'll tell Manx or even Birman to move my car as soon as they can. I hate the idea of them driving my baby, but I hate it less than the notion of leaving it there. The three of us pile into the car, Birman driving with me and the now-crying woman in the back.

I try to break the ice by commenting on Hiketora-san's clothes, casually mentioning the designer, which catches her ear.

"Now why would a dashing young doctor know anything about women's clothing?" She asks teasingly with a soft sniffle.

I smile as best I can. "I try to be a well-cultured individual." I answer with an underlying chuckle.

She smiles back, but soon turns her attention to Birman. "Um....miss?" She asks in fairly hideous English. I'm not sure why she chooses to use English, possibly trying to also sound cultured.

"Murasaki Sara." Birman replies cooly, surprising me with her careful, yet speedy driving. Definitely asking her to drive Seven home or somewhere safe.

"Murasaki-san, would it be a problem to run by my house and pick up my glasses and medication?"

I can see Birman wince in the mirror, but thankfully Hiketora-san can't see the reflection of my frustrated companion. "Not at all, Hiketora-san." She replies sweetly, "Would you be so kind as to direct me to your house?"

She does and we arrive at her house in no time. She gets out and I follow her in, my naturally suspicious nature surfacing. Now is a likely time for her to try something dumb, like suicide. To my relief, she heads directly to the kitchen and gets her medication, which I note consists of an anti-depressant and heart medication. She then walks back out and grabs her glasses which are lying on a table in the main room before opening the door to leave.

----------------

I haven't been this bored since having to listen to Ken drone on for nearly half an hour about the dynamics of soccer. What really threw me was that Aya kept pointedly glaring at me every time I opened my mouth to shut Ken up. I tried my best not to think about it at the time, but it's really been boggling me lately. He's not a fan of the sport, so it wasn't that. Could it be that our cranky leader has -gasp- feelings for Kenken? Now THAT is a subject that I'd prefer not to linger on.

In response to my depressing thought pattern, I turn my attention back to Yuri, who is now up to the point where her son turned seven. Only twelve more years to go...

From what I've gathered so far, the boy's name was Lanh, Vietnamese meaning quick-minded; smart; street-smart; peaceful. Yuri couldn't have children due to some odd childhood disease, so she and her late husband decided to adopt. They heard about four-year-old Lanh from the adoption agency and immediately fell in love with the slender, timid youth. Apparently Lanh's real parents had been killed when he was just an infant and his uncle wasn't very adept at caring for small children. Yuri wouldn't tell me everything she knew, maybe I'll weasel it out of her soon. Anyway, it took Yuri and her husband about a year to earn Lanh's trust. From everything I've heard, I probably would have gotten along with the kid. Sordid pasts and all...

"When he was twelve, his uncle came to our house." She pauses.

Finally something that I can actually USE, well, hopefully. "Did he threaten any of you?" I ask in an attempt to urge her on.

She nods. "He wanted Lanh back. He pulled a gun on Kenji and threatened to kill him if I didn't hand Lanh over."

"Kenji was your husband?"

"Oh, yes. Hiketora Kenji."

Why does that sound so familiar?

"Lanh came home from school then and saw his uncle with a gun to his new father's head. I didn't know if he could handle it or not."

I pause, waiting for her to continue. "What did Lanh do, Yuri-san?"

"He handed me his backpack and extra books, then told his uncle that he'd go with him." She pauses for a moment. "Kenji and I were shocked. Lanh walked his uncle over to his uncle's car and opened the driver's door for him. We didn't think anything of that because he did that for us all the time. His uncle was surprised, but smiled and got in the car. Lanh slammed the door on his uncle's head. Knocked him cold. Lanh got us inside and called the authorities. We ended up getting a restraining order against the uncle. Never bothered us in person again."

That catches my ear. "In person? What do you mean, he sent out hired thugs?"

"I think so...so did Lanh. Four years later, Kenji 'killed himself'." She informs me, adding the quotation marks with her fingers. "It stuck out as odd to Lanh and I. Other than the subconscious fear of Lanh's uncle, we had a wonderful life. He had no reason to want to kill himself."

"Did you not tell the authorities this?" For some reason, I think I already know the answer to this.

"Of course, they're the ones that helped rule it as suicide. We did manage to contact a detective, or at least his office. They said that he was the best they had ever had."

My eyes widen and I think she notices this, but ignores it and goes on.

"But before he could ever look at our case, he was in an accident and his partner was killed. He quit after that."

I choke on the breath of air I was trying to take. No...

Yuri's at my side in less than a minute. "Are you okay, Doctor?"

I grab at the pitcher of water on the table and pour myself a glass, still coughing. I chug half of it down before finding the strength to look at her.

"Did you know him?" She asks, laying a gentle hand on my arm.

"Yes." I manage to choke out before clearing my throat as discretely as humanly possible. "He was....He was afraid that by quitting he was letting everyone down. I told him that he wasn't...that he wouldn't be able to perform at his best...that he should take the time to mourn for his partner." I pause, losing touch with reality. "If I had known...that this would happen..."

"Doctor Satoshi," She starts, surprising me with her strong tone of voice, "that investigation and Lanh's death are completely unrelated. Do not badger yourself with it."

I look at her for a minute, completely stunned by the strong tone of her voice. Until this point, I had thought her to be a frail and helpless woman. Only now do I see the strength inside her. Now if only she'd use it for HER benefit instead of mine. "One decision, one choice, can single-handedly change the future. If I hadn't suggested that Detective Kudou take a few weeks off, if he hadn't decided to just quit, then the present events probably wouldn't have happened." I babble, my words not really registering in my own head.

Hiketora-san slaps the back of my head. "Stop that! You'll start to wallow in self-pity if you don't, and that is certainly not what either of us need...it's not what Lanh needs..." Her voice trails off, reminding me of her own sorrow that she so cleverly hid from me in the past few minutes.

"I apologize, Hiketora-san, you're right."

She snorts. "Call me YURI." She orders before sitting back down. "Okay...other than having to deal with Kenji's death, Lanh and I did pretty well. The same year as Kenji's death, Lanh started coming home late after school, usually three to five hours late. I was afraid that he'd joined a gang or gotten into drugs." She pauses here, looking down at her petite hands. "I confronted him about it...and found out that he had gotten an after school job to help me out." She starts to cry. "Lanh was the best child a mother could ever ask for! I want the bastards that did this to him to DIE!"

I blink, caught mildly off-guard by her outburst. Instinctively, I hand her a handkerchief. "I intend to do just that, Yuri-san, don't worry."

She sniffles and looks up at me, apparently as surprised as I am.

"You go about your life and leave this to me and the authorities, okay?"

She nods and asks for a glass of water, which I happily pour for her.

"Now, Yuri-san, was there anyone that would want your son dead?" I ask, hoping that she'll give me a Reader's Digest version of whatever she would have said.

"Just his uncle, and he actually wanted Lanh alive." She replies after taking a sip of the surprisingly still-cool water.

A knock resonates throughout the room. I sigh and get up to answer it.

Birman yanks me halfway out of the room. "There's something you ought to see..." She whispers carefully. "Manx will sit with Hiketora-san."

I look over toward the redhead, who nods in agreement to Birman's statement. "Okay, just let me excuse myself." I say before turning back around to the tiny woman in the makeshift interrogation room. "Yuri-san, I need to check on something for a minute and my associate would like to sit with you, if that's alright with you, that is."

She nods and smiles at me, but I can see the dark circles beneath her eyes.

After picking up my backpack, I step out for the first time in nearly five hours and sigh softly.

Birman notices this and attempts to make conversation, or a reasonable facsimile thereof.

"Abyssinian's been calling my cell phone."

Oh, that's SO not what I needed to hear.

"He's suggesting that you be temporarily taken off the team." She calmly states as I gape openly at her. "Unfortunately for him, he caught me while I was being swamped by authorities and medical examiners." She chuckles softly, unconsciously reminding me that she is human. "I told him to, quote-unquote, 'fuck off'." She seems proud of herself.

After the initial shock of hearing your female superior openly curse wears off, I chuckle at her proud look. "At least I'm not the only one that tells him that."

The smile doesn't fully leave her face, apparently making her look more desirable to the guard we just passed. "He mentioned that you had 'run off and abandoned your shift at the Koneko'. I told him that Kritiker would look into it." She turns to me. "Persia, Manx, and I would feel more comfortable if there were someone else on this case with you, Kudou." She informs me, using my surname for once.

I sigh and look down before looking her straight in the eyes, trying to convey to her just how serious I am about what I'm about to tell her. "Birman, I respect the opinions and suggestions of Kritiker, you know that, but I don't want ANY of Wei involved in this. Omi's too young," She moves to interrupt me, "yes, I know that he's seen more than his share of bad, but I'd like to shield him from the darker side of humanity just this once."

She nods, defeated.

"Ken's too...how do I put this..."

"Clueless?" She offers blandly.

"That works." I state quickly. "I don't trust him to be observant enough with this."

"And why not Abyssinian?" She asks, gaining back some of her unwanted bitchiness.

"Ab--Aya's got a lot to deal with, Birman. I'd prefer not to add to his nightmares." I sigh softly. "Plus, he and I don't always get along." I state as I look guiltily at the floor. "He'd only be a distraction and a point of irritation to me."

She stops walking and I eventually realize this and stop as well. She's got a soft concerned look to her face, catching me completely off-guard. "Youji, you can't feel that way toward Abyssinian...all the time, at least..."

I take a few steps backward. She's really starting to scare me. "I don't...always feel that way about him, Birman. Usually only when he's glaring or yelling at me, which is the majority of the time."

Her brows furrow at this new bit of information. "He....Kudou, he...he cares about you, about your welfare."

I blink. "The only thing he cares about is whether or not Wei can function as a unit. Well, that and his sister."

She snaps. "If that were the case, he wouldn't be calling us at all hours of the night asking if we'd heard from you or whether or not you're out on a solo mission!"

I take a few more steps backward, eventually hitting the wall.

Birman, in turn, strides forward until she's right up against me, blocking my exit. "He does NOT hate you! If you both could get over whatever the hell is keeping you from getting along, Wei could function properly and there'd be fewer missions for you all!" She suddenly snatches my sunglasses off my face and throws them down the thankfully deserted hallway until I hear them shatter against an unyielding wall. "What the hell is wrong with you two?!"

Okay...Birman's gone psycho...and I'm alone with her. Shit.

Instead of continuing her bitching, she collapses in a heap against me.

Thankfully, my reflexes are still functional. "Birman?" I ask as I catch her and gently lower her to the ground.

"I'm...just tired, Balinese." She breathes out softly, her eyes reflecting her exhaustion.

"Can I get you anything?" I ask gently, hoping that I won't provoke her somehow.

"No. I'm fine." She whispers before trying to regain some semblance of control.

I watch her for a few seconds, taking in her decidedly pale skin tone and slightly shaking hands. "If it makes you feel any better, I haven't been to sleep since ten AM Saturday." I offer, hoping that she'd cheer up.

She regards me softly. "I'm sorry, Balinese, for keeping you out so much."

I shake my head immediately. "No, Abyssinian had me check out all those clubs in one night, I had a shift in the Koneko, then this happened." I explain. Well, I was supposed to cover Ken's shift as well so he could play soccer with his brats...but oh well. "It's not your fault."

She sighs and silently asks me to help her up off the cold tile floor. "Please don't mention this to Manx or the others." It's said almost as though she were telling me to dispatch dark beasts - routine. "What time is it?"

I look down at my watch. "Almost eleven PM Sunday night." I reply softly as I offer my arm to steady her wobbling form.

She takes my arm gratefully and we continue down the hallway, my sunglasses forgotten. They're ruined anyway.

--------------

"Doctor Satoshi, I presume?" A rather mousy looking man asks me, getting right up in my face with his obnoxiously huge glasses.

Birman looks at this exchange and sighs to herself. I wouldn't have been able to tell had she not still been holding my arm to keep her balance. "It's okay, Balinese."

"Oh!" The rodent-man squeaks rather loudly. I guess he's employed by Kritiker too. "A thousand apologies, sir." He continues as he bows deeply.

I really don't want to hear this...the less this man talks, the better. There's just something about his voice... "Yeeaah...All's forgiven, or whatever. Now what was I supposed to look at?"

He readjusts his glasses before speaking. "Oh yes...I was looking at the X-rays you ordered, sir, and I found something rather odd. I wanted your permission before examining the actual..." He flounders around for words, "...thing."

If this man WEREN'T so scatterbrained, I'd believe he was an imposter, but from my experience, only medical examiners are naturally this...strange. "May I see the X-ray in question?" I don't know why I'm being polite. Maybe he'll talk less if I do.

He scurries over and grabs the X-ray before motioning for Birman and I to follow him. He clips said X-ray to the lighted board on the wall and stands back triumphantly.

I look up and tilt my head to one side. There's definitely something metallic and possibly glass lodged inside Lanh's throat. I mentally scold myself. Never, EVER start calling corpses by their former names. You get attached that way and attachments are bad. After a few more seconds of staring at the decidedly inconclusive X-ray, I turn to the doctor.

"I was going to proceed by making an incision in the throat of the deceased--"

"May I have a pair of gloves, doctor?" I cut him off. I really HATE this man's voice. So nasal...

"O-of course." He stumbles before handing me the box of latex gloves. Apparently he's not used to people interrupting him.

I yank out a pair and move over toward the body. I hate looking at drowning victims. It's so disgusting. I start to lean over said disgusting body when the mouse-man somehow manages to put one of those masks on me. I decide to ignore this and instead look back at the X-ray for confirmation. Okay...no going back now... I open the deceased's mouth with a slight degree of hesitance. Ew. I probe around in the back of its mouth, trying to keep a semi-straight face.

"No! You'll tear the surrounding tissue!" Mouse-man yells, that awful voice grating on my every nerve.

I turn to him, fully disgusted with his air of superiority. "What damn difference would it make? You're yelling at me for tearing tissue inside when you're about to chop off the outside!" I give a sneer. "He's dead. It's not like he needs any tissue anymore."

The doctor turns his face to the floor as an slight blush creeps across his features. "Point taken, doctor. The autopsy has been completed, aside from the removal of the foreign object." He apparently forgets or honestly doesn't know that I'm not just another Kritiker doctor.

I look to Birman, who has taken up residence in one of the chairs with wheels, and she smiles smugly at me and nods. Wow...I've made my superiors happy. I can now die a happy death. Well, not really, but still...

I stride back over to the body and resume my rather nauseating task. If you had asked me a month ago what I would be doing, digging around in dead people's throats would not have been on the top of my list. Hell, it wouldn't have even been on the bottom. That's just not something I think about in my spare time.

My fingers grasp the metal part of the object and, complete with revolted face, I gently pull it out of Lanh's throat. Aside from the obvious moisture...I pull it apart and let it dangle. Crimson glass beads form a Y-shaped necklace with a silver crucifix at the end. "A rosary?" I ask, looking toward Birman for confirmation.

She nods, her brows furrowed in deep thought.

The door bursts open, causing the mousy doctor to squeak and shout, but Birman silences him with a vulgar shout. She's really on a rampage today. A slightly shaken Manx strides in. "It's Hiketora-san, she's gone into cardiac arrest."

Birman and I immediately follow her as people in medical gear wheel Yuri-san away on a stretcher.

"Where are they taking her?" I ask frantically.

"Our hospital." Manx informs me as we follow the stretcher down the hallway.

"How did this happen?" Birman asks, taking many small strides to keep up with my long ones and Manx's medium ones. That's why business skirts are impractical.

Manx shrugs. "I don't know. We were talking about gardening and the meanings of flowers when...that," She gestures ahead of us in the direction the stretcher was taken, "happened."

"She was taking anti-depressants and a heart medication." I announce for no real reason other than to fill in the silence.

"Alright," Manx stops Birman and I in mid-stride, "the doctors will do what they can at the hospital. Why don't you two go back to what you were doing and I'll go on ahead. No sense in all of us being in one place doing nothing."

Birman nods and Manx immediately walks off. "She's right."

I nod. "I know. Come on, back to mouse-man."

She rolls her eyes at my comment, but follows nevertheless.

Well, was that more suspenseful? ^.^ Comments/Reviews are always welcome!

Edit (July 2007, July 2009): After rereading everything, I decided to make the changes Babaca suggested. Hope everything still flows well.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chosen **(chapter three) (Edit)

Author: Shukujo Kurai

Warnings: shounen-ai, OOC, ....supernatural (for lack of better terms)

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Wei . I do own Josh, Hideo, Yuri, Lanh, and all the dead people. ^.^;

Author's Notes: Okay...a month and a half later...I try to get started....*sweatdrop* Gomen.  
_6 years later - still unfinished. Now I'm working on editing and rewriting bits to make everything flow better. I hope. Please comment/review. I'd really appreciate the help.  
_

Dedication: MD, as always, but also to Soulstrife. Thanks for liking this fic when no one else does.

----------------

The rest of our stay with mouse-man is uneventful, to say the least. Just bruisings on Lanh's body so far.  
I look over toward Birman, who's drifting off to sleep in the chair, and sigh. I wish I could sleep too.

"Sir?" Mouse-man interrupts my dreams of slumber.

I look back at him to see what he wants, if anything. Sometimes he just gets my attention to irritate me. I think this guy could top Aya in that department. Aya...

I attempt to force thoughts about my stoic leader out of my head, which proves to be an easy task once I look at the nearby corpse. I've got to focus. Focus....but focusing on a rotting corpse is much less pleasing than focusing on Fujimiya Aya's solid, living body. A soft sigh leaves my lips involuntarily...

I still keep thinking about him, even after that fight. I suppress a groan, embarrassed at my earlier actions. I shouldn't have hit him. No matter what he said about me, I shouldn't have hit him. I promised myself I wouldn't become what I despised, but it seems that I have. I would apologize, but he'd probably kill me before I even got all the way in the room.

"Oh, my, I nearly forgot!" The man squeaks, his voice rings in my tired ears, causing me to jump.

"Forgot what?" I grumble, not wanting to stay here any longer.

He hands me two photos and a sketch. "This drawing was on his arm. It's faded from the water so badly that I can't make it out. I was wondering if you could..."

I glance down to see vague lines and I simply sigh. "Do you have a computer and a scanner, sir?" I can't remember this guy's name...does he even have one?

He nods, thankfully neglecting to answer me verbally, and leads me over to the computer terminal. However, he doesn't leave as I start scanning in the pictures. "What are you doing?" He asks curiously.

"I'm scanning in those pictures to see if I can restore them somewhat." I reply, drumming my fingers against the desk in a gesture of impatience. Damn slow scanner. The pictures pop up on the screen and I set about to restoring them. Thank God I paid attention when Omi showed me how to do this.

About half an hour later, I finally make out the majority of the image. It's an upside down cross with an English 's' on the left side and an English 'n' on the right. Beneath the image is a word, sloppily written. "Peccav sti..." I mumble aloud, probably butchering the language...whatever it is. Italian? Latin? Spanish? I get the SIN part; it's like my tattoo, only using the upside-down cross.

"Excuse me?" The nosy doctor asks, coming up behind me slowly.

Before he can get a glimpse of the paper, I wad it up and toss it in the garbage. "It's no use. The image is just too faded to get anything from it." I sigh in annoyance, hopefully it'll come off as directed at the image and not at the doctor himself.

He nods and sighs as well. "You look tired, Doctor Satoshi," he informs me, forgetting that I'm not really a doctor, "why don't you and Miss Birman head home and get some sleep?"

I look at him dubiously. I really hope he doesn't think that Birman and I are together. I have to restrain myself from shuddering at the thought. I always used to tease Aya about my having seen Birman first, but the woman's personality doesn't match well with mine at all. She'd kill me in a day, less if she's sleep-deprived.

"I think we'll do that, Doctor." I say, stretching. "You might want to suggest that to Birman, though." I gesture, trying to give myself the opportunity to fish the wadded paper from the garbage can.

He does so, scurrying off in that strange manner of his.

I retrieve my paper and tuck it into my pocket before standing up to go coax Birman out of here. I don't think that I can stand any more of Dr. Rodent today.

--------------------

After assuring me that she had Manx pick up my car and park it nearby the flowershop, Birman drives me to the Koneko, where a shadowed figure watches from a dimly lit room. "Probably Abyssinian..." She mutters, obviously unhappy with the interest that Kritiker's Golden Boy is giving me. "If he says anything to you, call me, okay?" She practically orders, locking the door before I can get out of the car.

I try the handle, cursing under my breath when I find the damn thing's immobile. I look back to Birman. I look away. I don't want to make a promise I can't keep. I don't want to look in her eyes and have to lie.

"Okay?" She repeats, her voice is tired, groggy and muddled with sleep. She looks at me seriously. Even exhausted as she is, she's imposing.

I finally give in. "Okay..." I sigh in defeat. The lock pops up once the magic word is spoken.

"I'll try to give you a break, Balinese. If any more evidence turns up, I'll try to push it back until you've had some sleep." She tells me before I'm completely out of her car.

"Don't worry about me, Birman." I inform her honestly. "You need to get some sleep as well. Besides, I have morning shift."

"I'll call you in sick." She states, checking her watch.

I shake my head. "No, Abyssinian apparently thinks that I've been out with a 'lady-friend' all night. It'd be best to keep it that way." I admit with a sigh. It annoys me sometimes, to know that Aya has such a low opinion of me.

She raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Are you sure? It's five thirty Monday morning, Kudou...and you said that haven't slept since Saturday morning..." Concerned brown eyes meet mine. Wow...she actually cares...I'm not sure what to think. She's probably just thinking about the efficacy of Wei .

"I'll catch as much sleep as I can, I promise." I concede before giving her a small warm smile, winking, and getting out of her car. She pulls away and I head to meet my maker, namely Aya.

--------------------

As expected, Aya meets me at the top of the steps, blocking the way to my room. "Yes?" I ask, not wanting this confrontation to take place right here, right now.

Instead of blowing up, which is what he looked ready to do a second ago, he raises an elegant red eyebrow. "Why are you wearing a lab coat and latex gloves?"

Shit! I'd forgotten all about those... Arg...gotta think, gotta think. I say the first thing that comes into my mind. "Kinky sex games." I inform him with a wink and as much of a sleazy grin as I can muster at the moment.

He makes a disgusted face in response and even winces when I snap the latex of a glove against my wrist. "Should've known..." He grumbles. "Be ready for your shift on time, Kudou, no excuses." He storms off downstairs.

I hate my life.

------------------

I grumble softly as I roughly towel-dry my hair after slipping on a pair of pants that used to be tight on me. Who does he think he is, that he can just dictate my life like that? He's not my superior. If I really wanted to, I guarantee that I could kill him. At the moment, the thought no longer sickens me like it used to. Right now I want to kill him because that's the only way he'd shut up.

When I step out of the bathroom, I run straight into him, his violet eyes wide and almost confused.

"....sorry," He mumbles almost inaudibly, "...thought you were Ken." And then walks off before anything else could be disclosed.

Well, I most certainly didn't need that. My suspicions of him and KenKen are bad enough, I don't need further proof.

...So...why was he waiting for Ken? The fact that he'd been right up against me gives me one clue that I'd rather not think about. "Damn you, Ken." I grumble unknowingly. "You'd better not hurt him." I can't stand the idea of him fucking up something that I don't even get a chance at.

"Kudou?" Aya's soft baritone voice comes from a few feet away.

I look up to meet hooded violet eyes as he holds out a manila envelope.

"This came for you." He shoves it at me, but doesn't walk away like I thought he would. Instead, he stands there, waiting for me to do something.

'He's probably being nosy,' I decide, once again mustering up a sleazy grin. "She got those developed already?" I look at him and waggle my eyebrows. "You wanna see?"

At least he has the decency to look properly horrified. "No." He growls as he spins on his heel and stalks back downstairs. Bastard.

I stalk into my room, slightly peeved at how lowly Aya thinks of me. Sure, maybe I deserve it some of the time, but everyone has their not-so-annoying moments, right? Guess not.

I toss the now-wet towel onto my nice dry bed and open the ominous manila envelope. At least it was sealed with packing tape. Mmm...dead bodies. Just when you think you've gotten away from them, someone sends you pictures. I sigh in resignation. I should have listened to all those bitchy teachers telling me to grow up and be a doctor...would have paid better than the detective stint and I wouldn't have to put up with Aya's shit.

I pull out a paper with Birman's handwriting all over it. Didn't I tell her to get some sleep? Lord knows I don't want her to slam me against another wall next time we see each other. That reminds me, she owes me a pair of sunglasses.

"Stop drooling over your homemade porn! You're going to be late!"

Oh my fucking God! I wonder if it's justifiable to kill him right now. Several smart-ass remarks spring to mind, but I say none of them. There's no sense in provoking Aya any further, plus I'm just too tired to care at this point. There is also the part where I chose to let him believe this lie about my recent dates. There is, however, one streak in me that I can't suppress. "Coming, sexy!" I call jovially, snickering at my less-than-humorous comeback.

"What?!" He roars back at me from behind my closed door.

I stifle another chuckle as I pick up the discarded towel and resume drying my hair. I smirk as I walk over and open the door. Surprisingly, Aya's still there, glaring of course. "Shall I come down like this, since you're in such a rush to get me into the shop?" I gesture at my half-dressed state.

He does appear to blush slightly, but you could pass it off as irritation. "Get dressed, Kudou."

"We'd do a lot more business this way." I comment off-handedly, more for the sake of conversation than anything else. Dead bodies, sleeping superiors, and rodent-like doctors aren't the greatest conversationalists in the world.

He glares and I remember that Aya might just fall in the 'dead body' category.

I frown and flop the towel on his head as he turns to leave. Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have a death wish. Thank you for asking.

In a matter of seconds, the towel is twisted and smacked against my bare chest before being shoved at me by a rather pissed off Fujimiya Aya.

If I didn't know better, I'd say he was playing around with me. Jokingly, if you'd ever believe that. But the death-glare he sends my way tells me just how much truth that idea really holds. Zilch.

I head back into my room as he heads back downstairs. It's depressing that Aya and I can never get along. Our personalities just clash too much. I wonder if he ever contemplates spending time with me out of his own free will? No, he doesn't do that for any of Wei . Well, no....there's always Ken. Damn it. Must not go there...Must not go there... He usually schedules us to where he works with either Ken or Omi, but recently I've gotten that dubious honor.

I walk over to my closet and pull out a long-sleeved black shirt to match my black jeans. I don't even bother with my hair, seeing as it's a lost cause with my being so tired. I'd probably get frustrated and try to cut it off again.

Time to go see who I'm stuck working with today.

--------------------

It's miserable, as per usual, because for the fifth working day in a row, I've had a shift with Aya. Probably his idea of keeping an eye on me. I sigh to myself as I tie a ribbon around a rather dull bouquet, undoubtedly a creation of Ken's. No one makes uglier arrangements than he does. I wonder if that's something to be proud of. He probably is, anyway.

"Kudou?" My esteemed leader's voice calls me, "It's time to close."

I look down at my watch. Man, that double-shift sure went by fast. S'probably the lack of sleep.

As I close the metal shutters on the door, a surprisingly warm hand is placed gently on my shoulder. I look up to the face of Fujimiya Aya and, for once, he isn't scowling at me.

"Please, get some sleep." Aya's actually being polite.

I don't know what to say, so I cut right down to business. "Can't."

"Why not?" He growls out, his violet eyes narrowing into angry slits.

"You and I have a stakeout mission." Well, technically I do, but I don't quite trust myself to be very alert, given my current state.

"I'll do it alone." He states as though his words were the gospel truth.

I shake my head, not really willing to argue again. "I know what we're after and I know the people. I need your eyes, though."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I have to find out information and I need you to watch for the future target." I attempt to clarify.

I receive a blank look in response.

"If you do it alone, you'll be stuck wading through goths. Do you accept or not?" I ask, my patience growing thin.

"I do not." He replies cooly before turning away only to be met by both Manx and Birman, the latter looking even more tired than she had been.

"You do not have that choice, Abyssinian." Manx states, her voice colder than I can ever remember it being. The redhead turns to glare at me. I just shrug.

Birman steps closer to me. "Same as before, this time we need you to finish the investigation of the club 'Fury'." She informs me softly.

I nod. I know very well that she means the downstairs of Josh's club.

"I am not working with HIM," Aya thrusts an index finger at me, "at a club."

Manx rolls her eyes and Birman follows suit. "Balinese will behave himself, won't you Balinese?" Manx asks, her eyes glaring daggers at me.

"Yes, you have my word." It's easy enough. I'm too damn tired to flirt with anyone...except Aya, perhaps.

"Here." Birman shoves a bag into Aya's crossed arms. "That's your new mission gear." She winks surreptitiously at me when Aya's engrossed in the contents of the bag. I can only wonder what she's got in there. I try to peek in, but Aya closes the bag with a growl and what is definitely the beginnings of a blush.

"You have six hours." Manx states blandly before going to inspect some flowers.

Birman, however, watches as Aya mounts the steps, then turns to me after digging in her small purse. "Here." She says, handing me a rectangular wrapped box. "I wanted to apologize." She lowers her head in defeat before smiling up at me. "Go ahead. Open it!"

Her smile urges me on, making me wonder just what the hell's going on. It's a hard dark green leather box.

"Keep going..." She whispers almost excitedly.

I do so and discover a pair of sunglasses, remarkably similar to my old ones. "Birman, you didn't h-"

"I wanted to. It's only right after I broke your other pair." She cuts me off quickly. She takes them out of my hands and puts them on my face. "There. How do they feel?" She asks softly.

"Perfect. Actually perfect." I answer with a smile, still wondering about her sanity.

She smiles softly, almost sadly just before Manx strolls over to retrieve her. "You'd better go get ready." She starts to wave me off. "Balinese?" She asks. "Be careful."

I nod mechanically. She sure is acting odd.

-----------------------

After going over my files and taking a brief nap full of dreams about dead people, I'm going through my closet trying to find a shirt suitable for 'Fury' when there's a knock on my door. I sigh softly, thinking it's Omi coming up to check on me again. I swear if he offers another cup of broth or tea... I promptly abandon my shirt-finding efforts and open the door only to be graced with a similarly shirtless Aya. He shoves the shirt that Birman had handed him into my arms.

I look down at him, honestly puzzled as to his intention. Am I supposed to give him a different one?

He glares down at the shirt, which is actually just a bunch of buckles, and back up at me.

I stare blankly.

His eyebrows furrow in irritation. "I can't...I don't...." He gestures toward the bondage-shirt in a vain attempt to convey his point.

"You don't like it?" I ask, completely dumbfounded. I've spent years with the guy, but I just haven't mastered his art of nonverbal communication.

"I can't get the damned thing on." He finally spits out, lashing out at me as though I were the cause of all this.

"Oh." I mumble before taking a closer look at all the buckles that he's undone. "Well, it would have been a lot easier if you hadn't unbuckled all of these." I sigh to myself in resignation. "Come on in, it'll take me a minute to get all these back in order." I hold open the door for him as I pretend to examine the shirt.

He enters at last and actually goes so far as to sit down on the edge of my bed.

I look up to see that 'this-is-all-your-fault' glare. "Look Aya, despite what you think, this is NOT my fault."

He looks at me incredulously. "How so?"

I roll my eyes in irritation. "It's the target's fault. If he weren't doing some weird shit we wouldn't have to kill him." I explain as I attempt to realign all these buckles.

It's a bit far-fetched, but apparently he agrees with me since he tries to look at everything else in the room. "Is that your homemade porn?" He points to the half open manila envelope and actually starts to reach for it.

I come to my senses and snatch it away. "Never knew you had such a hentai streak in you, Ayan." I comment as I move them out of his reach and go back to the minions of buckles.

He glares and starts to retaliate, but I cut him off.

"So, how's your Latin skills?"

He looks at me as though I've grown another head.

"Your Latin skills. Did you ever take Latin in school or something?" I ask, attempting to clarify myself somewhat.

He shakes his head. "I studied it on my own." He murmurs, almost unintelligibly. "Why?"

I wince. "This club we're going to..." I fumble with a buckle, "...we have to investigate the downstairs...it's a really, um....how do I put this....gothic-type place." I fix the buckle I was working on and I move on to the next one. "They'll probably be using a lot of Latin, at least I think it's Latin, if the other goth clubs were any indicator." Damn buckles.

He nods, probably not listening to a word I said.

I've gotten them all back in place, but loose enough so that he can get it on. "Raise your arms." I tell him as I walk over with the dreaded shirt.

He does so begrudgingly.

I shove the damn thing over his head, hoping against hope that it hurts. "You tighten the ones in front and I'll tighten the ones in back." I order, climbing onto the bed to kneel behind him.

God, I feel like such a pervert, looking at those low-slung pants of his. Black leather, I absently note. Leave it to Birman to get him real leather. Though I DO admire how he doesn't have fat rolls hanging off the sides like most people. I almost tell him this, then remember that this is the man who's supposed to watch my back later. I do not want him mad at me. Plus, it's really just because of what we are, the killers we have to be. Wouldn't do to have a pudgy assassin.

I hesitate when I get to the lower buckles. They're so close to the line of his pants, it's all I can do not to let my fingers wander. I force myself to think of Lanh's waterlogged body. That'll get rid of any hentai thoughts for sure.  
Well, apparently not when Aya's involved in them. I find that my mind wanders to what Lanh might have looked like before his murder. He must have been attractive. The pictures that his mother had were so faded, but from what I could tell, he was lean and serious. Just like Aya. Damn it.

"There. All done." I state happily, thankful for his impending-departure.

He turns to face me and mouth some sort of thank-you, but I notice his decided lack of gothness. "Aya, we're gonna have to do something about your face." I know it sounds like I'm calling him ugly. I meant for it to sound that way.

He glares at me, almost like he's offended.

I casually stroll over to my closet and dig around. "Here." I toss him a bag and go back to shirt hunting.

"Make-up?" He asks skeptically.

"Yes, Aya, make-up." I confirm with blatant sigh. "Put some eyeliner and eyeshadow on." I almost tell him to put some black lipstick on as well, but decide not to. He'd probably kill me.

He growls low in his throat before digging the aforementioned items out and moving over toward my dresser where a mirror is. He is just not going to give me any peace this evening. Even sleep-depravation doesn't deter my hormones - at least when he's involved.

--------------

Surprisingly, the redhead doesn't say anything to me as we drive in Seven to 'Fury', so I'm left with the sounds of ugly J-pop from the radio. My dear God, I get enough of this at the Koneko. I angrily hit the radio until it changes to an angry, yet depressing song that soothes my enraged soul. Did I ever mention that I really hate silence?

Apparently, Aya sees this and mumbles something that sounds like 'who is this?'.

"Luna Sea." I grumble, not caring if that's what he asked or not. If he wants the correct answer to his half-formed questions, he'll have to at least speak up.

I slide into a parking spot and immediately turn off Seven just before stepping out. I don't think that I can handle the goths tonight. Especially not that Vampire-guy.

I sigh softly, forcing my body to calm down as Aya steps toward me in his bondage outfit. Admittedly, mine isn't much better. Like him, I have on black leather pants, though his are actually tighter, but I have on a genuine chain-mail tank-top. Why? I don't know. Like so many other things, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I look down at him, unfortunately. He took my advice and put some make-up on, but I wasn't aware that he was so skilled at it. Yet another fact about him that disturbs me. He's accentuated his eyes with a hint of glittering crimson along with the standard black eyeliner and - if I'm not mistaken - there's a hint of lip-gloss on his lips. I shake my head rapidly to dispel this image of 'sexy-Aya'.

"Are you ready?" He snaps at me, effectively breaking the spell he had over me.

"Of course." I smile at him and offer him my arm.

This, of course, is met with a 500-watt death glare. Needless to say, we walk in separately.

-----------

The bouncers wave to me as we move to the back of the line, motioning for me to come over. "Youji, right?" One of them asks.

Mildly disturbed, I nod.

"You've got clearance already. Josh's waiting for you."

My eyebrow raises at this revelation, but Aya and I walk on in nevertheless. Well, that frees up a good hour or so that we would have spent in line.

"Who's this 'Joh-shu' person?" Aya asks in a subdued hiss with a rather horrible accent on Josh's name.

"Remember the venus fly trap guy?" I ask in return, still amused with Aya's less-than-perfect English skills. It's possibly the only thing I can do better than he can, besides being human. The guy has zero social life.

He makes a face.

"Yeah, that's him." I affirm with a small chuckle. Gotta love first impressions.

We keep pushing through the sea of black-clad bodies and I can see that this is definitely NOT Aya's type of atmosphere. To be honest, it's not even my type of atmosphere, but neither of us really have a choice in that matter, now do we?

"Do you even know where you're going?" Aya's angry baritone voice chimes in as he stops wading through the goths.

It's an idiotic question. He was with me last time, well, at a great distance. He was at least supposed to be inside the club. "Of course I know where I'm going A-OOWWW!!!" I grab my neck where pain just lanced up. "What the fuck?!" I yell as I spin around to see the soon-to-be-dead Vampire-guy from the other night. "Why you little-"

Aya cuts in. "You're bleeding."

"No shit, Aya!" By this time, about a quarter of the club has turned to face us, wondering what all the commotion is about. I spin back to where 'Belial' or whatever he wants to be called is trying to flee. "What the hell was that for, you little shit?" I ask, grabbing him by his hair, which I decide hasn't been washed in a few weeks, yanking him backward and letting go before I catch some disgusting disease from him.

He remains quiet.

"WELL?!" I demand, ignoring the steady trickle of blood down my neck. I think the little bastard hit my jugular or something.

"Come on, Youji," Aya protests, going so far as to gently touch my bare arm, "lets get you cleaned up."

Why the hell is he being so damn calm about this? I know HE'D be pissed if it were him bleeding from some freak's fake fangs, which are apparently not as fake as I'd believed.

"Such a charming and beautiful lover." 'Belial' remarks as he gets on one knee and grabs Aya's hand. "Much too refined for the likes of 'Youji', let me assure you."

I know I must be shaking from anger. "One more word, Belial..." My voice is low, lower than it is even when in mission-mode, "...one more word out of your mouth and I assure you that you'll never live to see another night."

By this time, Aya's already snatched his hand away and has moved a safe distance away from both Belial and I.

"Get out, Belial." A similarly low voice from behind me cuts in.

I turn to see Josh and two guards/bouncers.

Belial does as he's told, quickly fleeing the club.

I start to follow him, but Josh grabs my arm and weakly smiles up at me. "Come on, I have a first aid kit at the bar." We walk over to the bar, Josh leading me by my wrist and Aya glaring the whole way.

"Stay here while I get the kit." The blue-haired bartender instructs us calmly just before Aya plops down on a barstool. Well, except that Aya doesn't plop. I don't think it's within Aya's capabilities to 'plop'.

I glare at him, the sleepless nights catching up to me. "You know, it's certainly not MY fault that he bit me." I inform him gruffly, not bothering to sit down and be civilized about it.

The glare, of course, is returned. "You probably pissed him off the other night." He speculates in a bored tone. Yes, Aya, we know that you are above these idiocies. Now please refrain from pointing that out any further.

"Granted, that's probably true..." I trail off with a sigh, spotting something out of the corner of my eye. I'm about to continue with my retort when Josh returns.

"Hey, you're getting blood on my bar." He informs me in English while pouting. How did he decide that I spoke English? Did we use English at the Koneko yesterday...or whenever it was?

I glance down at the few drops. "Sorry." I reply in his language as I wipe the drops up with my hand. I am so careless anymore. Though not even the Dhali Llama could concentrate with Fujimiya Aya accusing them of being a pest to innocent goths.

"That's okay." He replies with a smile. "I needed to disinfect it after 'Belial' visited anyway." Warm fingers dab at the puncture wounds on my neck. "He really got you good, didn't he?" Josh comments as he's forced to break out a damp washcloth. I surprise myself by shivering slightly at his excessively close proximity. "Oh, Lilith's here in her bee costume. I think she was looking for you." He waggles his eyebrows as he casually mentions this.

I make a disgusted noise in response. Just the thought of the bee-chick threatens to send me into convulsions. Glugh...I need to change the subject. Perhaps I can dig some information out of him. "How'd you end up working here, anyway?"

He smiles a bittersweet smile and closes his eyes. "Hideo and I inherited the club from his...our parents." He looks over toward the empty stage. "I miss the way it used to be, really. This was Hideo's idea."

"The goth scene?" I ask as he pours some antibacterial crap on my neck.

"Yeah." He replies, the far-off look coming back onto his face. "I liked it as a coffee house. Every weekday was an amateur night on stage. Most people played the guitar and did rather well, but some really sucked." He smiles warmly at me.

I mean to smile back, but Aya jumps and hits my arm, effectively gaining my attention. I look around him to see what made him so unnerved since I know he wouldn't tell me even if I asked. There's a group of giggling goths - both female and male - to his right, leering at him. I force myself to repress a chuckle, and instead pat his arm sympathetically and smile down at him before turning around back to my conversation.

"He doesn't talk much, does he?" Josh asks as he motions toward Aya with his head.

"No." I reply in a saddened tone. "He doesn't talk at all." I decide to include him. "Do you, Aya?"

The redhead in question turns to look at us with a blank expression. Has he not heard a word we've said?

Josh leans toward me, his gaze still faceted on Aya. "Does he not speak English?"

Realization suddenly dawns on me. We've had our entire conversation in English. I thwack my head with my hand. Of all the stupid, idiotic things to do... Well, it's not my fault that Aya apparently doesn't speak English. "Gomen, Aya."

He glares at me as though I were the least intelligent thing in this room. Granted, I'm not, judging from the few regulars that I've talked to.

I sigh softly in resignation. THIS is why I didn't want to bring him along. Well, that and I knew he'd just be glaring at everyone, scaring them off before I could interrogate them.

"Did you ever mention how much you liked the coffee house to Hideo?" I ask curiously, reverting back to English, just to spite Aya, wondering if he's intimidated by his brother.

"Nah. The place is more Hideo's than it is mine, so I let him make the decisions. I just run the bar." He shrugs it off easily enough.

I tilt my head to one side in a gesture of contemplation even though it looks like I'm just giving him better access to my punctured neck. "You don't consider yourself Hideo's equal, do you?" I inquire, hoping to gain some insight into his life if I can't concentrate on this case.

"No...no, I don't."

"He's your brother, why not?" I push further, watching for signs that he'll snap.

He sighs with a smile. "His parents adopted me when I was in grade school. I'm not his equal."

I pause, remembering things that I'd rather not. "You don't remember your parents, do you?"

He shakes his head.

"I don't really remember mine either." I whisper to him, keeping the conversation in English so Aya won't be able to have any sort of dirt on me. There are just some things that I don't want my teammates, especially Aya, to know. "They died when I was pretty young." I add as an afterthought. I don't know why I'm telling him this, but I guess I can trust him just as much as he trusts me.

"Must've been rough." He comments softly as he sticks a gigantic flesh-colored bandage on my wound.

I chuckle bitterly. "Didn't have enough time to get too attached to them." I reply with a shrug. As much as I'd like to let someone know all this, I need to change the subject. I look around for inspiration. "Do any of these people ever seem...dangerous...to you?" I ask, trying to casually bring it up.

He raises an eyebrow at either the abrupt change or the question itself. "None of the ones up here." He finally answers.

"But there are some?" I push, probably too eagerly.

He looks at me and something in his blue eyes flashes dangerously. "This is about those missing patrons, isn't it?" He demands, the atmosphere turning hostile.

It's my turn to raise an eyebrow. Patrons? That could be the key, the one thing linking all the victims. "Not entirely." I reply with a certain amount of hesitation. "There's a boy, a friend of mine..." I trail off, my jade eyes meeting his bright sapphire ones. "Hiketora Lanh." I try to give an innocent 'I-just-want-my-friend-back' look. Lahn's mother really did sucker me in with the whole 'we contacted a PI's office, but he almost died so he didn't help us' crap. Now I feel obligated to help her.

Josh stiffens, but tries to help. "What does he look like?"

"Mid-neck length straight black hair, dark brown eyes, about 5' 5"..." I offer, hoping that it'll trigger something in his memory.

He gives me a look reminiscent of Aya's stares. "Everyone looks like that here."

Well, that's true. "When he wasn't wearing his uniform, he wore baggy blue jeans and a baggy shirt...." I babble, forcing myself to remember all the crap that Yuri told me about her son.

"How old is he?" Josh asks me, the telltale look of recognition still not crossing his face.

"19." I reply easily.

He shakes his head. "If he didn't drink, I wouldn't have seen him." He tells me with a sad expression on his face. "Maybe Hideo did..." The disappointment must have shown on my face since Josh lays a tentative hand on my shoulder. "I hope you find him soon...I know what it's like to lose a friend."

"We found him..." I whisper, the information falling unbidden from my lips, "...but he's dead."

Josh looks up at me, shock evident on his face.

Before I can say anything, Aya presses up against my right-hand side.

"Huh?" I murmur as I look down at my companion in shock.

He's glaring at the guy sitting next to him and I think he's about to grab the nearest blunt object.

Again, Josh leans toward me as though he were going to check my neck again. "...Your lover?"

My eyes open widely at the utterance of his half-formed question. "Usotsuki!" I hiss, trying not to attract unwanted attention. It's bad enough that I'm here with an incredibly sexy redhead AND the bishounen bartender is standing obscenely close to me. From what I've heard, Josh is supposed to be the ultimate catch around here. Maybe if I weren't so infatuated with Aya, I'd be going after Josh...but I'm stuck lusting after an icicle-man. Fun.

Josh raises his arms defensively. "Sorry!" Back to English. I wonder if he's from America, although being raised in Japan still wouldn't explain the constant use of English.

I sigh softly again. "Nah, it's nothing you did, Josh." I sit down. "In all reality, he hates me." I explain, gesturing surreptitiously toward Aya, who's resumed his former position and is trying to glare the goths away.

Warm blue eyes flicker back and forth between Aya and I. "I doubt that, Youji." Apparently uncomfortable with discussing this around Aya, Josh focuses his attention elsewhere. "Hey, that's an awesome tattoo!" He compliments me as he grabs my arm. "Where'd you get the design from?" He asks as he traces the wings on the cross.

I shrug. In all honesty, it was how I was feeling at the moment. Shitty.

A thumping bass beat starts up, drowning out any further conversation. I attempt to convey to Josh that we need to go by pointing to Aya, then to myself, then behind me.

He smiles softly and waves goodbye before grabbing a can of Lysol and spraying the bar.

--------------------

Aya and I resume fighting our way through the mass of goths as the bass is turned up even more. Normally I don't mind loud music, but today I can't stand it. I blame the definite lack of sleep.

Neither of us say anything during our trek to the ape-like man that guards the basement, but I still have a pretty good idea as to what's going on in Aya's head. He doesn't want to be here and, quite frankly, neither do I.

The monkey-man stops us, but I just fish out the card that Josh gave me the other night and he lets both of us through without any means of protest.

I guess I'm not paying attention, because I run right into Aya as we reach the bottom of the spiral staircase. "What's wrong?" I ask, not quite daring to lay a hand on his sacred person. I look around him after realizing that he's not going to respond any time soon. It's another goth scene, only this one is decorated with paintings of angels and demons. I have to squeeze around Aya to see what he's gawking at.

Oh. I have to hold back a snicker. "Not used to the S&M scene, Aya?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

The lady with the whip turns to us both and smirks wickedly.

I smile in return, laying a protective hand on Aya's shoulder and steering him away from her. It wouldn't do to bring him back with a bunch of whip tracks on his back...amongst other places.

So this is what 'serious' denotes, huh? I have yet to be impressed. Although it's giving me way too many ideas...

"Hurry up so we can get the hell out of here." Aya mutters in the best official tone that he can muster after being subjected to all of this.

I nod, bored with his normality at the moment. This place holds not-quite-new, but still exciting things for me, weird as they may seem. It's only after I look around that I notice the stares that we're receiving. I'll admit that we probably don't look like the type to be down here, but does it really warrant everyone's undivided attention? I block the music out so that I can hear everyone. It seems that Aya and I are the center of everyone's conversations. I can hear words like 'demon', 'angel', 'lord', and 'master' along with phrases like 'can you believe', 'the One with the Master', 'the One is here', and something along the lines of 'the seventh sign' everything in a mix of Japanese and English. I really don't get it.

Their gazes become more intense, more piercing and smothering.

Overtop of the gossip, I hear a woman shriek in pain. Instinctively, I rush toward the sound with my fingers creeping up to caress my watch. What surprises me is that Aya's right behind me.

I push through the circle of people, brutally throwing them aside so that I can reach the owner of the screams. In the center, a woman's lying on the floor in the fetal position, her hands covering her head as countless people hit and throw things at her. I don't know what she did, but I doubt she deserves to be beaten to death.

Going on instinct alone, I throw the unarmed people as far as I can while incapacitating those with weapons. I think I broke more than a few noses in my rage. The circle widens until there's about an eight-foot radius between us and the crowd. "What the hell was this about?!" I demand as I pick the lady up off the cold concrete floor and hold her protectively against my body. Aya stands at my side, slightly crouched in a defensive position.

A bitter looking man speaks up first. "She's been playing us false! Look at her neck!"

Not in the mood for their petty games, I look down at the woman after prying her face out of my metal shirt. A tiny glimmer of silver proves to be a small crucifix. I cannot believe the audacity of these people. I pull her trembling body back against my steady one. "None of you have any right to judge her by what she wears or what she believes." I inform them in a low tone, almost daring them to contradict me. Are they really beating a woman up for wearing a crucifix? Really?

Again, their whispers grow loud enough to where I can hear bits and pieces of them.

"It's just like the prophecy..." Someone whispers behind me.

"He defends the blasphemer, yet stands with the Master..."

"...takes no sides..."

"...judges no one..."

Miraculously, I manage to see someone readying themselves to throw something out of the corner of my eye and I reflexively grab Aya and duck down just before the knife would have hit him.

After a collective gasp, the whispers start again.

"It is Him..."

"...the prophecy is true..."

"He who defends both the good and the wicked..."

Their little gossip party is broken up by a dark-haired man who comes stomping over. "What in all the hells is going on over here?!" He demands, then freezes as he looks at me. "Youji?" I recognize the voice and study the features until I recognize him as well.

"Hideo, what the hell kind of place do you run? This woman was getting the shit beaten out of her." I demand, my voice still low and my eyes still narrow and angry. I don't like anyone who lets women get hurt by any means.

The man in question stares at the three of us for a minute before his eyes narrow and he turns to the crowd. "This place is closed until further notice. I want all of you OUT!"

The crowd hesitates, apparently unused to seeing the owner like this.

"NOW!" Hideo yells, his posture rigid and unyielding. He turns back to us, forcing himself to calm down. "I am SO incredibly sorry. I just got back down here..." He moves to help the woman, who shrinks back into my protective hold.

"We'll take her home." Aya informs him, surprising me with his steadfast initiative. "Come on..." He tugs at the top of my pants.

I take the time to pick the lady up and cradle her against my chest before following him out, Hideo following us. "We'll pay for any medical expenses she has, I promise." He rambles as he fishes out a card, scribbles something on it, and hands it to Aya. "Here. That has our insurance information and the name of our lawyer if she decides to press charges."

I turn away to conceal a raised eyebrow. He must be sincere if he's willing to just give her the chance to press charges without much of a fight...either that or he knows that he could never win.

"I don't blame you if you do decide to sue, ma'am." He rakes a hand through his long ebony hair. "I would." He offers a small, meek smile before frowning. "Please excuse me, I need to go make sure that they're clearing out." His large hand pushes the back door open, allowing us to leave.

-----------------

"Are you okay, miss?" I ask the lady as I set her down on Seven's hood. Gingerly, I tuck errant chunks of hair behind her ears before wiping blood and tears from her cold, clammy cheeks.

She nods as she continues trembling, her slender hand coming up to grab my right arm.

"We need to get her to a hospital, Youji." A baritone voice informs me, confirming my suspicions that she's going into shock.

I manage to nod before noticing that she's swaying back and forth, fighting to remain conscious. "Miss?" My left hand moves instinctively to the back of her head to steady her.

She falls against my chest right as I feel a sharp pain in my wrist.

I draw in a sharp breath of air as I identify the source of my pain: there's a knife embedded in my wrist. I look up, hoping to catch a glimpse of my attacker.

"He truly is the One..." One of the shadowed figures whispers none too silently.

"...the Messiah..." The English word is horribly mutilated by the Japanese dialect, managing to sound like 'mesh-ee-yah'. At least, I THINK they're saying 'messiah'.

Aya's warm hand lands gently on my shoulder. "What's wrong?" He asks, apparently not noticing the exchange between the freaks and I. That's unusual for Aya not to be fully on his guard.

I manage to lift my injured arm from the back of her head to show him, blood dripping onto Seven. "Don't let her see..." I whisper almost inaudibly to my teammate, motioning for him to take the now-unconscious lady from me. "Is she okay?" I ask, my voice returning to normal.

Aya looks up into my eyes, slightly puzzled, before shaking his head. "She's gone into shock."

"Get in." I order him as I jump into the driver's seat.

"You can't drive with.."

I cut him off by yanking out the knife and tossing it into the back seat. It's not really that deep of a wound. We've all had worse.

He gives up and gets in, holding the woman tightly against him.

I drive to the nearest hospital, forcing myself to ignore the flow of blood down my arm and the memories of a similar incident so very long ago. I look over toward my two silent companions. "Aya, don't let her head loll back like that." I inform him tersely.

He corrects his slight mistake before glaring suspiciously at me. "Well, what do you want me to do?" Damn it. I should have known that he'd ask.

Well, now is not the time for trying to cover my own ass, not if I want this woman to live. "Keep the environment calm, make sure she doesn't choke. Talk to her. It doesn't matter what you say, just so long as it's soothing."

He looks at me like I'm an idiot. "She's unconscious."

I have to suppress the insatiable urge to roll my eyes. After all we went through for his sister, all HE went through, you'd think he'd know this already. "I KNOW that, Aya. Sometimes the brain can still register things...nevermind, just recite a poem to her or something." Must get to hospital...must not kill partner.

He sighs softly and seems to dredge up a memory of a poem or story or something. "'What is Real?' asked the rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side...'does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a handle that sticks out?'" Tentatively, his hand reaches up to stroke her hair as he recites this story in a gentle soothing voice seemingly alien to him. "'Real isn't how you're made,' said the skin horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'" He glances over at me.

I nod to reassure him, noting that her breathing has started to calm down somewhat.

"'Does it hurt?' asked the rabbit. 'Sometimes,' said the skin horse, for he was always truthful. 'But when you are Real, you don't mind being hurt.'" His eyes have taken on a sort of glaze as he enunciates each word carefully. "'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'"

The pain on his face makes me want to comfort him as he recites his story, his violet eyes still blank and haunted. I nearly swerve off the road, my attention focused on his face.

"'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the skin horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very, very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

It almost bothers me to interrupt him, but I have to. "Aya, we're here." I open my door and run over to get his as well.

---------------------

Nurses are irritating. Sure, I established this fact long ago, but tonight has only furthered that belief.

I glare at the woman in front of me who's currently demanding that I see a doctor and get stitches in my arm. "Look, I've had worse. Just give me a band-aid and I'll be fine."

She continues to rattle off strange and unmeaningful statistics as she searches for something on a desk, her brown hair falling out of it's bun and into her face.

"I came to save HER life, not to get stitches for a scratch." The tone comes off as more irritated and forceful than I'd meant it to, but right now I just don't give a shit. I'm tired, I'm bleeding, and Aya's gone catatonic on me. I look over toward the redhead standing by the window, blank eyes staring out at the city. If she wants to worry about someone, she should worry about Aya.

She doesn't heed my warnings. This is only part of the reason it feels odd coming to a hospital other than Magic Bus.

Frustrated and unwilling to blow up at a nurse who's just trying to do her job, I grab a paper towel from the desk and stick it on my injured arm before walking off toward Aya. "Hey..." I murmur softly, uncertain how to handle a despondent Fujimiya Aya. "We can go now, if you'd like..."

It takes him a minute, but he slowly moves away from the window and toward the door.

I follow, chattering about not wanting to be left with a rabid nurse in an attempt to get some sort of reaction out of him. It doesn't work. "Aya?" I ask, gently laying a hand on his shoulder.

He stops walking, but doesn't turn around.

"It's a pretty silly question, but are you okay?" I ask lamely.

He nods and starts to walk again, but my grip on his shoulder tugs him backward. He stares up at me with his violet eyes empty and almost sad and I find that I cannot look away.

In the face of our deafening silence, the paper towel falls off my arm, too soaked with blood to cling to my skin anymore. I still can't look away from the swirling plethora of emotions in Aya's normally expressionless eyes. He too seems engrossed with something in my expression, so we remain as we are: standing in the doorway of a hospital, staring intently at one another. For a moment, I desperately want to take him into my arms and hold him tightly so that nothing can ever hurt him this badly again, even if I don't know what it was that triggered this onslaught of depression in my normally stoic colleague. Then I remember the facts about life with Aya: don't stare at him, don't talk to him, don't touch him. I'd rather not break any more of them than I'm already doing.

I'm startled out of my silent reverie by softly spoken words from my leader. "What were they whispering...in that club?" His voice is scratchy from not being used in the past few minutes and maybe from nervousness at being under my scrutiny for so long.

I force myself to raise an eyebrow, keeping him in the dark about everything. "They were whispering?" I ask, only succeeding in sounding retarded.

His eyes narrow and I'm aware that he knows I'm lying.

I shrug and lead him out the door after picking up my blood-soaked paper towel. "I don't know. Sounded like psychotic babble to me." Which it definitely did.

He's silent for a few moments, then speaks in a semi-embarrassed tone. "Most of it was in English..." He pauses for a moment to stare up at the quarter moon. "I haven't had to use English in so long... I haven't been keeping in practice." A reluctant admittance if I've ever heard one before.

Again, I shrug. "I speak English and it still didn't make any sense to me." I force myself to admit. It's sad, but undoubtedly true.

My companion sighs softly, almost inaudibly, before resuming walking toward Seven.

I look around, finding that I actually want to prolong this night. My eyes lay on a small shop that's still open. "Hey Aya?" I ask, not quite daring to tug on his arm.

He actually stops and turns around to see what I want.

"You want to get some coffee or something? My treat..." I offer, gesturing toward the open shop as I try to entice him with free sustenance. Even he has to eat.

Darkened eyes spot the place I'd been looking at and he cocks his head to one side before looking down at his watch. He doesn't say anything, he just starts to head toward the caf .

----------------

It's a nice enough place, I suppose, though one look at their menu tells me that I don't have much of a selection here. That's okay because I'm here with Aya, the man I've been watching for ages. Yes, I know I'm hopeless.

An elderly woman comes over to take our orders, her thick glasses obscuring at least half of her face.

Aya, in predictable Aya-fashion, orders black coffee, nothing else.

I give the old lady the best smile I can manage at the moment and tell her that I'd like a black coffee and a strawberry ice-cream cone.

"You want some saran-wrap for that, hon?" The elderly lady asks as she writes down our order.

I follow her gaze down to my no longer gushing arm. "Oh, no, that's okay, really." I try to weasel my way out of having cling wrap stuck on my arm.

"It'll help stop the bleeding." Aya informs me and nods to the lady, who happily goes off to fetch the aforementioned item.

I glare balefully at Aya. "Did it ever occur to you that I just don't want cling wrap on my arm?"

My arm is carefully picked up and wrapped in saran-wrap, as promised, with no questions asked at all, a fact that I find slightly suspicious.

Aya gives me the funniest look after the woman walks off. "Coffee and strawberry ice-cream?" He asks, completely appalled by the combination.

I smile at him, a warm honest smile. "The sweetness of the ice-cream dulls the bitterness of the coffee." I inform him casually, acting as though it should be common sense. I do it just because I know for a fact that it irritates him when I do.

"Sugar and cream would do that..."

My smile never falters. "You can't beat the natural sweetness and flavor of strawberries in your coffee."

He graces me with a disgusted expression. "Sounds repulsive." He mumbles just before the old lady returns with our order. He sips his coffee quietly, occasionally sneaking a glance at me as I take a small bite of my ice-cream and wash it down with a gulp of coffee.

"You want some?" I offer, thrusting the dripping cone toward his face.

The redhead leans back in his seat in an attempt to avoid the frozen confection. "That's disgusting, Kudou." He informs me as he pushes my hand back over to my side of the table.

"Don't knock it til you try it, Ayan." To prove my point, I take a big, slobbery lick of the ice-cream and calmly follow it up with more coffee. I think I'm making him sick.

He levels a glare at the pink ice-cream with chunks of real strawberries in it. "Fine."

Before I can offer him the cone, he grabs my hand, tugs it over, and takes a medium-sized bite of the ice-cream. He lets it sit on his tongue for a few scant seconds before taking a delicate swig of his coffee.

I watch his face carefully as he tries to decide whether it's absolutely abhorrent or actually kind of tasty.

"That's.....different." He finally decides, apparently still unsure.

I shrug again. "Each to his own, I guess." I comment before resuming my routine. I don't bother making conversation, knowing that Aya'd just ignore me.

I'm almost finished with my ice-cream and coffee when a slender arm reaches over and grabs my ice-cream from me. "Hey!" I whine after figuring out what had just taken place. "Ice-cream thief!" I accuse, crossing my arms and pouting.

Aya, of course, doesn't care about my abused feelings. He just finishes up MY ice-cream and his own coffee. Guess he decided that it was actually pretty good. Either that or he just wanted to be an ass. Whichever.

I watch him eat the cone with a slightly amused expression. "You owe me two bites of ice-cream and a cone." I state, resting my head on my uninjured arm.

We head to the counter, where I thank the lady for the kind usage of her cling wrap and hand her the money for the bill.

Aya and I leave with what we pass off as fond farewells and walk over to Seven. I frown at the bloodstains on my hood.

"They'll come off." Aya states blandly as he notices what I'm glaring at before getting in the passenger's seat.

I follow suit and start my jeep. "Well how would you like to have blood all over your Porsche?" I retort sourly as I drive back to the Koneko.

He doesn't answer or say anything else until we're safely home. "Don't forget, we have afternoon shift tomorrow." He reminds me as we walk up to our individual rooms. "You'd better be on time for once." He warns as he shuts his door.

Yes, that's the man I'm obsessed with.

Wa~ah! When I transferred this from NotePad to Word to check the spelling, I found out that it was 23 pages long. *stares in disbelief*

And, yeah, the ending was a bit on the crappy side, but that's okay. I hope the rest of the 23 pages made up for it.

Edit (July 2009): Just fixed some random words, mostly. The flow SHOULD be better. I hope... I also decided to have Aya-chan be awake and overseas. Tired of ignoring her. The perspective being solely Youji's makes it more difficult to understand Aya's motivations and that's the whole point of it, really. So sorry if it's still weird and awkward. Suggestions?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chosen** (chapter four)

Author: Shukujo Kurai Warnings: shounen-ai, OOC, ....supernatural (for lack of better terms)

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß . I do own Josh, Hideo, Yuri, Lanh, and all the dead people. ^.^;

Author's Notes: Okay...about two months later I started writing this and then finished it four years later. . I'll be surprised if anyone reads it, at this point.  
_6 years later - still unfinished. Now I'm working on editing and rewriting bits to make everything flow better. I hope. Please comment/review. I'd really appreciate the help._

Thanks: Soulstrife, my hard-working editor/BETA reader; Zeva Andonius, the first person to review this fic; babaca, who gave some honest criticism that was welcomed with open arms; nekojita, who always encourages me; Trinity Bennett; and Deora.

Dedication: MD, as always, but also to Soulstrife. Thanks for liking this fic when no one else does.

I used to welcome dreams with wide open arms, even when they were riddled with images of Asuka's last moments or other unsavory memories from my past. Now, well, now I know that God's laughing at me for real.

I know I'm having one of those dreams when I'm sitting across from Aya at some nameless cafe and he starts laughing. Laughing at what, I'm not sure. Just the fact that this is Aya and he's laughing is enough to send me to the psych ward, but I don't know WHAT he's laughing about and that makes it infinitely worse.

The dream-me sits there, unsure of what to do. I can't remember saying anything funny.

Suddenly, I'm pinned to the booth by the dream-Aya's katana through my stomach and, yes, he's still laughing. "Did you think for one minute that I harbored anything other than hatred for you?" He hisses into my ear in between chuckles.

I manage to come out of my stupor long enough to look up into his icy eyes, the violet stained by his bloodlust. "Aya?" The dream-me gurgles out, blood pooling in the booth around me.

"I can't stand you, Kudou." The dream-Aya spits out, no longer laughing. He stands before me in full mission gear, the assassin-glare carved onto his face. "The very idea that you like me disgusts me." He grips his katana, which is still imbedded in my stomach. "YOU disgust me." The hatred in his eyes is all too clear for me to see. "I'll relieve you from your mundane existence." With a quick jerk upwards, reminiscent of his target-killing method, he does just that.

--------------

I shoot up out of bed, gasping for air. Shit. Talk about your unpleasant dreams. I glance over at the clock on my bedside table. Hopefully, I'm not late for my shift.

It glows 5:24 AM at me, unconcerned with my plague of nightmares. I curse it for good measure. Now I'll never get back to sleep. Two hours of sleep is just not enough to run a body on for an entire day. Ung.

With another low growl, I force my abused body to actually get up and get dressed. At this point, overworked and decidedly unappreciated, style has no meaning to me. I grab the first things that I can find and yank them on, clothing my naked body.

I sigh softly. Being up at five thirty in the morning does not have its perks. At least, none that I'm aware of. There's no one awake this early - no one to keep the darkness at bay.

My gaze lands on the manila envelope on my coffee table and my thoughts drift back to last night. The whispered things that Aya was asking about really didn't make much sense to me, but perhaps that's because I know next to nothing about theology. Maybe if I told him some of the things they'd said he'd understand. Maybe he'd be able to solve this enigma of a case. Maybe he'd be able to protect the people that I can't, the people like Lanh and the other victims. Maybe he'd just think that I've gone insane. Maybe he wouldn't be wrong about that.

With a low growl, I force myself to get into detective mode as I sit down on my sofa. Three dead bodies. Seventeen missing persons that we know of. No obvious connection.

I reach for the coroner's reports on the first two bodies and thumb through them. One male, one female. Both moderately bruised, but otherwise uninjured. The boy had shoulder-length hair and the girl had mid-arm length hair, similar to Manx's. Both were brunettes. The boy had brown eyes while the girl had hazel. Lanh's hair was mid-neck length and black while his eyes were brown. The heights varied as well as the weights.

Damn. So what am I supposed to tell Kritiker, that everyone should be on the look-out, especially males with long hair? That'd go over real well.

As for the marking on Lanh's arm, I don't see anything in the reports on the other two remotely similar. They didn't have any tattoos or unusual body piercings. Both were average people as was Lanh. I have absolutely nothing to work on.

/"This is about those missing patrons, isn't it?"/ Josh's defensive voice rings in my ears. Were the victims leading double lives?

I glance over to the pile of missing persons reports. I really miss my bulletin board. As a P.I., I'd group things together on a bulletin board to make sense visually. As well as being a helpful grouping tool, it was easy to hide. All I had to do was throw my jacket over it or slide it behind my file cabinet or underneath my desk. I guess the floor will have to do. It's not mobile and easily concealed, but it'll have to do.

I grab the pile and move over to a relatively clean section of my floor before spreading everything out. This is one case I'll be glad to get solved.

--------------------------

I've got nearly ten different piles going when my cell phone rings. I hate the damned thing, really I do. Especially when it rings with that one particular ring, the one I've dubbed the 'mission ring'. I grab it and hit the talk button just so I don't have to hear it ring any longer. "Kudou." I answer with a smoke-hardened voice.

"Kudou? Are you feeling okay?" It's Birman. I should have expected her to call right as I'm making some sort of progress.

"Yeah," I reply, my voice smoothing out with each word I say, "I'm fine. What did you find?"

"There are more missing persons than originally thought." She replies with some degree of hesitance. "When we checked the nearby districts, the number nearly tripled."

Well, shit. There went any and all hopes of getting this thing solved soon. "Damn." I grumble, "Just how many do we have total?" I ask, unsure if I really want to know.

"Forty-six." She replies, sighing softly.

I growl low in my throat. "Please tell me that most of those are simple run-away cases."

The phone is silent for a moment before she speaks. "I don't think so."

"Well, shit." This is not going my way. "Get me the reports here as soon as you can, okay?" I request as I glance over at the red LED clock that happily shines 8:11 AM at me.

"There's another reason I called." Her tone is grim, so I'm pretty sure I know what to expect. "An employee of a storage-unit rental company stumbled upon another corpse." She seems hesitant.

"We've got three others, what's so special about this one?" I ask, knowing full well that there's something different, something that will probably make me ill.

"I...You'll have to come to Dr. Ikkudo's lab."

I can't suppress my sigh. "The rat-guy?" I ask, making sure so I don't end up at some dentist's office or something.

She actually gives me a short chuckle. "Hai. Be there soon."

"I have afternoon shift, just so you know." I remind her, hopefully so I'll get out of having to work with Aya today. Nothing like icy glares right after working on a cult-related case. Well, I am pleasantly surprised that there haven't been obvious repercussions for our fight the other day and he was downright civil last night, almost pleasant.

"You'll be back by then."

Joy.

-------------------------------------

I clutch the cup of coffee in my hands while I watch Birman try to control her stomach. I'll have to say, nothing in my mind prepared me for this. When Birman mentioned that I had to see it, I thought it'd just be a few stab wounds, maybe decapitation or something relatively normal like that. But no, of course not. I get Jack-the-fucking-Ripper.

The body, if you can even call it that, was cut from the groin to the upper chest. That part didn't bother me much at all. The fact that the heart, part of the intestines, a few fingers, the left ear, and the eyes were missing...now THAT bothered me. What turns my stomach though, is the fact that lots of skin is missing. I don't think I've ever seen a flayed corpse before.

"Just when you thought you'd seen it all, huh?" Birman asks shakily as she sits down next to me. "In our line of work, we're supposed to be immune to these things, detached."

"Yeah, but you can't help but to care." I reply, stirring my coffee with the red stir-stick. "It makes you wonder what the families will feel when they find out."

She shakes her head and puts it down on the table. "This one deviates from the pattern."

I nod mechanically. "It might. But I can't help wondering how many more of these corpses are out there, hidden in storage facilities and places like that. Maybe the first three we found were the actual deviants from the supposed pattern."

Birman looks up at me as I sip my coffee.

"Were there any records of who owned the unit?" I ask, not bothering to plaster on one of my trademark smiles.

She straightens up and fixes me with an unhappy look. "You know how America uses 'John Doe' for a generic name?" She asks, her voice sliding fluidly over the foreign words with little difficulty.

"Yeah."

"This might as well be the Japanese version." After informing me of her conclusion, she rests her head on her arms again. "What are we going to do, Kudou?" She asks, her eyes staring unfocused into space. "It's Wei 's job to protect the citizens of Tokyo, to hunt down the dark beasts...but what happens when the dark beasts are too shadowy to be seen amongst the darkness?"

I don't miss a beat. Even though my superior is doubting her job - her purpose - I miraculously don't lose my resolve. "Then we just have to look harder."

Again, she looks up at me, this time with determination in her own eyes. "You're right, Kudou." She informs me with a small smile as she stands up. "Where are you headed now?"

I look down at my watch. "Well, I still have just over an hour until my shift, so I thought I'd go by the library and see if they have any books on Latin and satanic cults." I'm sure the librarians will just love me...

"Would you mind some company?" She asks, the look in her eyes telling me that I really don't have a choice.

I smile down at her. "Just so long as you help me look for those books. Then the librarians can be pissed at both of us." I tell her with a wink.

--------------------------

Birman and I stroll in about twenty minutes late, both of us well-laden with books.

"You're late, Kudou." A cold, distinctly unhappy voice cuts through our semi-happy air.

"He was with me, Aya." A lighter-hearted Birman cuts in, trying to save me from my inevitable punishment.

I roll my eyes behind the safety of my sunglasses as the redhead glares balefully at my companion. "I'll be right down, Aya. I just need to put these in my room." I inform him, jerking my head in the direction of my rapidly-tiring arms that are filled with books.

He says nothing more, just raises an elegant eyebrow in barely veiled curiosity.

I ignore it and walk up the steps, Birman following behind me. When we finally reach my room, I have to set the pile of books down so I can fish for my key. I'd almost forgotten that I'd locked it so no one could barge in and see my piles of reports on dead people.

"Been busy?" Birman asks as she strolls in after me, practically tossing the books down onto my unmade bed.

I shrug after following her example. "Busy, yes. Making progress, no." I reply balefully. "Do you have the other missing persons reports?"

She nods. "They're in my briefcase out in your car." I'd almost forgotten that I'd given her a ride.

"How're you going to get back to the lab?" I ask, curious, but also hoping to get out of my shift by taking her back. If Aya's attitude earlier was any indicator, I really don't want to be around him at all today.

"Manx will pick me up." She replies as though I should've known the answer. "I've been meaning to ask this," she pauses as she looks me in the eyes, "why do you have cellophane on your arm?"

After my initial period of wondering if she has truly lost her mind this time, I remember the medical treatment from the waitress last night. "Oh, I forgot about that." I mumble before peeling it off, reopening the stab wound in the process. I've really been out of it lately, not to remember it and not to even go though my normal beauty-hygiene routine this morning....or did I?

"Do I even want to know how you got that?" She asks, placing her hands on her hips. "AND the bandage on your neck?"

Forgot about that too. "Goths." I reply dully, as though it should have been blatantly obvious.

She taps her foot, apparently unsatisfied with my monosyllabic answer.

"Some goth bit me with his not-so-fake fangs," I report, gesturing to my neck, "and then I got knifed." My nonchalant tone is probably going to set her off, but right now I can't find it in me to care.

Instead of blowing up, she just sighs and shakes her head. "Kudou, you really should be more careful." Her sleep-deprived eyes suddenly regain a bit of sparkle. "Maybe you should wear garlic next time."

"Oh, ha-ha." I drawl with an exaggerated roll of my eyes. The next thing I know, I'm being dragged in the direction of the bathroom.

"Lets get you cleaned up and bandaged so you can work efficiently."

I quirk an eyebrow. "So YOU'RE the one that trained the work-Nazi down there?" I jest, letting her run my arm under the faucet.

Birman huffs in mock indignity. "Honestly, Kudou." She mutters, turning her attention to the wound she's tending.

"You know, if this is the treatment I get, I ought to get knifed by goths more often." I tease, waggling my eyebrows for added effect. I can't resist teasing her at least once. Mock indignance beats unsure dejection any day.

She swats at my chest with a mild glare. "I should have let Aya handle your injuries."

I feign terror, grabbing my chest with my uninjured hand. "You wouldn't!" I exclaim, mimicking the stereotypical female victim in horror movies. "He'll surely drink my blood and feast upon my soul!" Okay, so I've been spending a little too much time with the goths lately, give me a break.

A raised brown eyebrow is all the response I get, other than the anticipated glare. "Alright. Good as new." She pats my freshly bandaged arm gently. "Now, off to work."

I sigh dramatically before walking down the hallway to lock my door once again. "You gonna call Manx for a ride?" I ask, figuring that she was already pulling her cell phone out while walking behind me.

"Actually," she starts, sounding almost a bit unsure again, "I thought I could help out in the shop for a bit. Maybe take my mind off the case." A brief silence ensues while I wonder whether to reply or not. "Besides, maybe the extra help will make up for your tardiness." She quips as she walks around and ahead of me.

"No, it'll just delay my punishment." I mutter as I dutifully follow behind.

-----------------------------------------------

The day in the shop goes by fairly quickly with Birman's unexpected help and without much commentary from Aya. Either Birman was correct in assuming that her help would make up for my lack thereof or Aya's too smart to say anything around her. We're finished closing up and Aya heads upstairs before I finally ask, "How's Hiketora-san?"

"She's on her way to a full recovery at the hospital. She should be released in a day or so." She comments off-handedly as she's heading for the door.

My days have gotten so lost I have to ask her what day it is and am rather surprised when she informs me that it's Tuesday. "I've got an invitation to a theology class tonight. Think I should go?" I ask, half out of curiosity and half asking what my secret schedule is.

She turns to give me a raised eyebrow. "Who invited you to a theology class, Kudou?" The comment doesn't have the biting criticism in it that I would have expected, just paranoid curiosity.

"The bartender at Fury." I reply, hoping that'll cinch it.

It does. She nods, her eyes returning to mission mode in a manner reminiscent of Aya. "Take some notes if they'll prove useful." And with that, she's gone. It does strike me odd how Kritiker is focusing on Fury without having been informed on the goings-on of last night, unless Aya has done so without informing me. That wouldn't surprise me in the least. He probably figures that I'm too irresponsible or untrustworthy to do so myself. With a sigh and a shrug, I head upstairs to grab a legal pad or something before leaving for the college.

------------------------------------------------

Never before in my life have I been so confused. All the computer jargon from all the Omi's in the world can't compare to this. I don't think I'd be more confused if Persia came into the Koneko to do a strip tease. The professor's a middle aged man with wild hair and a goatee, which somehow accent his freakishly scrawny body and he's been droning on about some vague religion that I've never heard of while strolling up and down the isles of uncomfortable desks for the past hour and a half. I glance down at what I'm furiously scribbling; I've made some sort of bizarre triangle and copied the equally strange words down. I might as well be doodling SuperGoth for all the good this is doing me. Boy, did I ever lie when I said that this interested me.

A touch - almost a caress - on my arm startles me out of my 'notetaking'. "Sin," a booming voice with a new hint of interest reads, "when you gonna learn?" The professor looks down at me, my tensed arm still beneath his fingers. "A very Judeo-Christian question to pose on one's flesh. Tell me," he continues, finally moving to face me instead of my arm, "do you consider yourself above sin to pose the question to others?"

I raise an eyebrow slightly. "It's more of a self-questioning thing. When am I going to learn?" I reply coolly, inwardly irked by his interest.

He nods. "Then tell me, have you learned?"

My face blanks. "No." And I never will.

"Do you think it's even possible in the world we live in today?" He asks. Several hands shoot up around me, but he's fixated on me.

I'm tempted to tell him to pick someone else for this philosophy debate, but I don't. If he knows I'm Josh's guest, he might not think too highly of Josh if I mouth off. "To live without sin or to learn from our sins?" I ask, hoping to divert him.

He smiles. "Intriguingly put. Both." He says, his crossed arms and smile urging me to answer.

"Depends on your doctrine if you can theoretically live without sin, I guess. If you believe we're born into sin, then no." I never understood the whole born into sin thing, especially the removal of. Maybe it's just me, but once you've sinned, I don't think all the atoning in the world will make up for them. At least, in my case. Murder's pretty unforgivable. "As far as learning from them goes, you'd have to really believe that you're in the wrong and have the self-discipline and conviction to avoid temptation to prove that you've learned from your mistakes."

He grins. "That self-discipline and conviction is what sets the saints apart from the common man, isn't it? But we can't all be saints, so why bother trying?" With a pat on the shoulder he moves on, babbling now about original sin. We went from some religion with a 'z' in its name to original sin. Not that I'd know if they were connected in any way, but this seems random and highly disorganized.

I haven't slept nearly enough to put up with this.

Before I can even start on SuperGoth's eyes, he's back to me. "The wings on your tattoo, what do they mean to you?"

I blink blankly at him and his overly-personal questions. There really hadn't been much meaning at the time, but I've had many years to think about a reason. "For me, they're a reminder of what's more pure than man, what man often envies." I pause and notice that my hand's unconsciously gone up to cover my tattoo. "An aspiration of purity and grace." It may or may not be the truth, depending on my mood. Actually, I think they just looked nice.

He gives me a sad sort of smile and tilts his head to the side. "Do you think that angels sin?"

What sort of a question is that? Why would I have ever asked myself something like that? My mind has to think back to every religious picture of an angel that I've ever seen. "If they do God's work, I guess it depends on what God asks them to do. If they kill, if they murder, then I suppose that they do." I pause, debating on being a smart-ass. He's giving me a pleased look when I decide that I just don't care about his opinion anymore. "But you'd have to ask an angel on that one to be sure."

He just laughs. "Indeed I would."

----------------------------------------------------

The entire experience reminded me of why I hated school. I hated being singled out with the expectation of intelligent answers. I'm out the door before Josh and Hideo both catch up to me.

"Wow, I'm really sorry about the professor. He normally doesn't harass students like that." Josh apologizes, looking like it's actually upset him.

Hideo, on the other hand, beams at me. "I think you performed admirably. Have you ever had a theology class before or are you just particularly religious?"

I snort before I can stop myself. "No, on both counts."

"You must think about it often, to have answers so ready." Hideo prods, urging my life out of me.

I shrug. "Sort of. I think my mother was Catholic." I certainly am not.

"You said you didn't remember much about her." Josh reminds me, not in an accusing way, just an off-hand manner.

"I don't. I can remember that she had light hair, green eyes, pale flesh, and Christian stuff around the apartment. She owned a rosary with translucent dark green beads and pale green marble stones." I give another shrug. That was my inheritance; worthless when you're a killer. An empty relic of a faith you perhaps once had, but no longer believe in doesn't do you much good. Nevertheless, it resides in my nightstand, wrapped securely in one of her headscarves.

Hideo begins to open his mouth, but I cut him off. "Have you heard from that woman?"

His eyes harden and he shifts his gaze to the ground. "She had a minor concussion and extensive bruises, but no internal bleeding. We're paying for her medical bills, but she's decided not to formally press charges."

"That's somewhat of a miracle." I state, almost disbelieving her outward benevolence. Perhaps fear clouded her judgment. Either way, it's not my place to intervene here. She lived; she's not another tally on my missing persons and dead body count.

Josh pipes in. "It's about time we had one." He mumbles as he kicks at a piece of garbage in the parking lot.

This catches my attention in an off-hand kind of way. "Bad luck?" I ask, not expecting much of an answer.

He gives me a half-hearted glare and a smirk. "I deal with 'Belial' on a nightly basis. I'm starting to believe that good luck doesn't exist."

I give a chuckle. Yeah, I can see how that would jade someone for life. "Here's my car." I state, almost relieved to get away.

"Will you be back to Fury anytime soon?" Josh asks in a rather endearing manner, probably hopeful to have someone halfway normal to talk to.

I shrug. "We'll see." And we will. I hop into Seven and start the engine, waving my goodbyes to the brothers. If I can trace the dead or missing persons back to the club, I'll be there in a heartbeat to interrogate him. It probably won't be any sort of social call.

------------------------------------------------


	5. Chapter 5

**Chosen (chapter five)**

Author: Shukujo Kurai

Warnings: shounen-ai, OOC, ....supernatural (for lack of better terms)

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß. I do own Josh, Hideo, Yuri, Lanh, and all the dead people. ^.^;;;;

Author's Notes:

6 years later - still unfinished. Now I'm working on editing and rewriting bits to make everything flow better. I hope. Please comment/review. I'd really appreciate the help. This is currently un-Beta-ed. After that six years, I've lost contact with my beta reader. If there are any volunteers, please let me know!

Thanks: Zeva Andonius, the first person to review this fic; babaca, who gave some honest criticism that was welcomed with open arms; nekojita, who always encourages me; Trinity Bennett; Deora; and to everyone else that has reviewed this fic since I first posted it.

* * *

* * *

I just don't get it. I flip through the files again, attempting to re-sort them into different commonalities. The information regarding the daily lives of missing persons is somewhat lacking, so I'm working with practically nothing. I'll have to assume that the victims have been chosen at random, at least at this stage.

Okay. Logic. Why are they turning up missing? Who's taking them? In this case, we'll assume it's our friendly neighbourhood satanic cult. Why are they being taken? What's the modus operandi of most satanic cults? Here's where I draw a blank. In the movies, it's always to resurrect some ancient demon or god. In reality, or as close to reality as these people can be, I can't speculate so freely. There are, however, the clues discovered at Fury.

I mostly lied to Aya the other day -- I somewhat understood what those people were saying. The words, at least. The context, on the other hand, is a mystery to me. 'The Master' and 'The One'. Could be one person, could as easily be two. Something they worship or something they fear. I'm more leaning toward the two separate people idea. They said something about someone -- I guess 'The One' -- defending something while standing with 'The Master'. That would make for two people. Also some nonsense about a prophecy. That'll be even harder to pinpoint. Do you realize how many books of prophecy there are? The librarian looked at me like I was completely nuts when I asked for their BOOK on prophecy. She gave me a shelf of books instead.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This isn't getting me far. Well, it's going better than the Latin did. I glance over at the pile of books on Latin and my admittingly vague notes. 'Peccavisti' just isn't getting translated by me anytime soon. I told Birman to have some of Kritiker's more bookish agents work on it instead after beginning my phone call to her in Pig Latin. I even tried typing the damn word into the computer, which just came back with something like 'did you mean Piccadilly?'. No. No, I did not. Thanks for playing, internet, but you fail.

So, back to motives. If it really IS a SATANIC cult, they're demon worshippers, right? So they're searching for a sacrifice for a demon? A demon itself? A way to summon a demon? I sort through my pile of assorted witchery books for something vaguely summoning-related.

Ten minutes later, I decide that either these people are vastly more intelligent than myself or they're just blindly copying squiggles, circles, and Hebrew while hoping that it works. I begin thumping my head with the book in disgust. At myself, at society, at complex arcana, everything.

More importantly, at least in my opinion, I think those Goths that knifed me were calling either me or Aya the messiah. Somehow, I don't think a satanic cult would like a messiah, unless they're using it vaguely or outright incorrectly. Aya... I don't want him dragged into this, but Manx and Birman took care of that for me by sending him to Fury with me that night. If they were talking about us, he's likely to be in danger.

Well, we're in danger all the time, don't get me wrong. From other assassins, psychics, drug dealers, human slave traders, you name it. The idea of an ideal-driven cult after one of us just kinda gives me the creeps more than usual. We've dealt with the others for so long, we know how to deal with them; we can guess their next moves, at least for the most part. I, for one, am entirely lost when it comes to cultists. It might come down to my having to warn Aya of this, just in case.

Okay, the knife is at Kritiker getting checked for fingerprints other than my own when I removed it from my arm. We probably know where the cultists are likely gathering. We just need to be able to identify the ringleader. The picture given to us by Kritiker was a computer generated composite and no one I've seen looks a damn thing like it. It's unusual for Kritiker to send me in blind like this, to make any of us do this level of investigation. It's usually 'here's the guy, kill him, get out, we'll clean up'.

I startle out of my thinking when my door is knocked. Looking over at the clock, which reads 11pm, I can't really imagine who would be trying to find me. Nevertheless, I get up and open the door.

And stare. Blankly. For a long time.

Aya raises an eyebrow at me before shoving a plate with a sandwich on it at me. "Omi says to eat." He mutters, never breaking eye contact.

I blink, finally. "Eat? Huh?" Intelligent, Kudou. I look down at the sandwich. It looks like turkey; a quick sniff of the air hints at honey roasted. My stomach rumbles loudly, not waiting for my verbal acknowledgement of the sandwich. I reach out to take the plate from Aya. "Thank you." I say, surprise still not quite out of my tone yet.

His mouth purses to one side, somewhat incredulous look still on his face. "Hn." He turns and heads back downstairs.

Well, I did my part. I said thanks.

I eat my sandwich, which is incredibly tasty. I guess I'd forgotten to eat this evening. I'd meant to grab something on the way back to the Koneko after my debacle of a theology class, but my mind was too busy trying to sort out connections between the things the professor had asked me and the case at hand. I want to say he's the leader, but that would have to be one hell of a lousy composite image. He could still be involved though.

Meh. I head downstairs to wash the plate, hoping for a reprieve from my thoughts. Passing through the living room, I spy Omi typing away on his laptop. I lay a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for the sandwich, chibi." I start to walk, but he looks up at me puzzled.

"What sandwich, Youji-kun? I didn't even think you'd be here, much less hungry." He sets the laptop down on the table and leans over the back of the couch, resting on his crossed arms. Then he smiles, seemingly wiping away questions from his mind. "But I am glad you ate, though! I never see you eat anything anymore."

"Hey, I eat." I defend myself, trying to remember eating something other than ice cream and coffee with Aya the other night. I shrug instead, desperately attempting to force the confident nonchalance out for him to see. It's probably not there, but he seems convinced or at least placated for now.

I head into the kitchen, wash my plate, return it, and then stop to admonish myself for being so disgustingly domestic. If Omi didn't send it, then Aya just made my ass a sandwich AND brought it to me himself. Ken's not even remotely a possibility in the 'feed Youji brigade', so don't even try.

I head back to the stairs, ruffling Omi's hair along the way. "Get some sleep soon, kiddo. School in the morning." Ugh, so domestic. I don't wait for a reply, I just flee the scene.

* * *

I'm sitting on my bed staring at books. It's not that farfetched. It was the reading of said books earlier that would have stunned everyone. Now I'm just blankly staring.

Aya fed me. As much as I don't want it to, it kinda gives me a warm feeling.

Before I even realize it, I'm at his door, knocking. Damn it. There just needs to be planning for some things.

The door cracks open just a hair.

"Aya, can I talk to you for a sec?" That could go either way. I wish there had been more in the way of preparation for this.

The door opens slightly farther and Aya stands in it, looking for all the world like he'd been attempting to head to bed.

I guess that's permission. "Well...could I come in?" I stumble here, not wanting Ken or Omi to know anything. "Or you can come to my room..." Okay, sounding creepier. Shutting up now.

Aya's eyebrow can't help but shoot up, arching elegantly to convey that WTF look. He doesn't say anything nor does he move to let me in or go to my room.

It'll make it worse... "It's about last night..." Something to make that less sleazy... "At Fury." There. That'll do something.

He remains for a moment, then moves to let me pass.

I enter and move over toward the window reflexively. The door is shut behind me. "The things they were saying, Aya...I think you and I both need to be careful."

He just deadpans at me.

"Yeah, I know, we're always careful. Comes with the job and whatnot." I babble at him. "It's just...this cult may be linked to a number of kidnappings and murders. The things they were saying make me think that one of us may be next."

"Being targeted is nothing new, Kudou." He replies blithely.

"I know, I know." I turn to face him. "It's just that...the bodies...the crimes have been unusually brutal in nature." I meet his eyes here, wanting, needing him to know my sincerity. "I don't want the next body to be yours."

He holds my gaze. "What bodies, Kudou?" He asks. "None of the files have mentioned the remains of the missing persons." There's accusation in his tone.

"I...Kritiker..." My gaze moves to his shoulder. "It's part of a solo mission I'm on." I stare at the floor now. It kills me to admit this. "I just don't want to fuck this up and it end up killing you. I needed you to know, to be careful."

"I'm always careful, Kudou. You should know that." He sneers at me.

It's silent. Horrifically silent. I don't know what to say. I'm torn between running back to my room and staying and waiting for the condescending remarks.

"How long have you been on this solo mission?" He asks, somewhat randomly.

I look back up at him. "About a week or so, I think." I reply honestly. "I've sort of lost track of time." I meet his gaze. He holds it. "I..." I begin, not sure where I'm going or if I really want to keep talking. "I think I might be in over my head. Birman okayed me to ask for help, she's practically demanded it, but understands why I didn't want anyone else involved. Manx brought you in last night, it was last night, right?, unofficially sort of and now you're halfway in and probably in danger because I won't tell you what's going on, but I really want to keep everyone sheltered from this and --"

"Kudou."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." He takes a breath. Apparently he wasn't expecting verbal diarrhea. "First thing's first. How are you in over your head?"

"Latin. Fully understanding the motivations of satanic cults. Finding someone, anyone at this point, that matches Kritiker's little composite doodle." I shrug.

He sighs. "Let's start with the Latin."

* * *

Aya sits on my bed after surveying the room dubiously. I think he was looking for other places to sit down, as though he were afraid of what he might sit in on the bed. "What are you trying to translate?" He asks, picking up one of the books on Latin. He tosses that one back, as it's written in English.

"This." I hand him the restored image I'd crumpled up, the one I'd gotten off of Lahn's arm. "Peccavisti."

He studies the drawing for a minute and then begins to look back and forth between me and the paper.

His actions are making me doubt myself. "It IS Latin, right? If I've been searching for the wrong language this entire time, I swear to God..." That would wholeheartedly suck.

"This is almost like your tattoo." He indicates, tracing the stylized SIN.

I nod. "Creepy, isn't it?" My hand subconsciously goes up to cover my tattoo, even though my shirt already does. It's getting colder in the year, so tank tops really aren't very practical now. Lose the wings, use an inverted cross, and replace 'when you gonna learn' with 'peccavisti' and they're identical. Granted, those are substantial differences, but it's enough to still weird you out.

"Okay. Your root word is likely 'pecca'." He announces, covering up the 'visti' with his finger.

I blink. "Root word?" He DID say that he'd studied this language somewhat.

He sighs softly, almost so that I don't even hear it. "Latin uses a root word and adds endings to it to signify person, number, and tense." He stares at it some more. "Did you think of looking up 'sin'? It does say it in English, right?"

I'm surprised he's deigning to ask for my opinion, but I remember that he said that his English is rusty. "Yeah, it does." I reply. "No, I didn't check. I guess I assumed it was like my tattoo."

He nods, apparently unconcerned with my ignorance. He finds a dictionary in one of the books that's written in Japanese. "Here it is. 'pecco, peccare' meaning sin."

I raise an eyebrow. "At the risk of sounding dumber, Aya, neither of those are 'pecca' or 'peccavisti'."

He barely refrains from rolling his eyes. "Peccare is the infinitive. You drop the -re and that's your root word."

I hope he knows that he's completely wasting breath explaining this. "So what's 'visti'?" Please just tell me, please just tell me, please just tell me.

"That will take me longer." He states before scouring the book for something.

I watch for a minute or two as he flips pages, purses his lips, tilts his mouth to one side and repeats the process. Aya-watching is a favourite hobby of mine, but this is too boring even for me at this point. I move off the bed and pick up a map of Tokyo I bought and begin to mark the locations of the bodies we've found with an orange highlighter. I must have picked it up from the shop or found it in the couch. Omi's or one of the schoolgirl's, probably. I've finished that and begin the arduous task of marking the locations where the missing persons were last seen in a different colour. Don't ask me why I started keeping the highlighters I've found, but at least they've proven useful now.

It's been about half an hour when he announces that I've sinned. I look up at him with something akin to an aghast face. I'm not sure why it surprised me that he'd say something like that to me; I guess it's just kind of random.

"The you is plural, so it'd be 'you all have sinned'." He snaps the book shut and looks at me.

Oh yeah. Peccavisti. "Think it's a statement to Tokyo or some specific group?" Two minds are better than one, right?

He considers this for a moment. "Probably to society as a whole." He looks down at the map I'm working on. "Care to fill me in, Kudou?" It's not really a choice I have, if his tone is any indication.

I sigh. "The disappearances started about a year ago. Averaged one person a month for a while, but then escalated to almost one per week. That's when Kritiker got involved, apparently."

"What reason do they have to suspect Satanists?" He relaxes a little into my bed, leaning against the headboard while still looking down at me on the floor.

"Well, the marking, for one, but that's only been found on one victim so far. The rest were too mutilated to draw on, I guess." Either that or Lahn was just their idea of a warning to Tokyo or to the authorities.

He quirks that eyebrow. "How mutilated?"

I shrug. No going back now, I guess. "Flayed, eviscerated, and with pieces missing." I rattle off in a somehow nonchalant tone. "Still haven't found those yet."

His lips purse slightly and his eyes narrow to mission-mode. "Which pieces?"

It's my turn to raise an eyebrow. Gross curiosity, Aya. "Intestines, an ear, some fingers, and the eyes. Why?"

He gives a half shrug. "I'd hoped they'd give a clue as to what the cult is doing."

I can't reply before my cell phone rings. I glance at the number, hang my head, and answer it. "Balinese."

Birman's slightly more rested voice greets me. "I apologize for calling so late, Kudou, but we've found another body."

I do sigh, somewhat loudly. "What's this one like?" I hope she doesn't say what I think she'll say.

"Well..." She starts, "he's been crucified."

Aya raises an eyebrow to meet my own raised one. He can't hear her, he's just reacting to my reactions.

"Really?" I ask, knowing the answer. "That's new." I give in. "Do I need to see this to believe it?"

"It'd probably help, but no. I can send pictures. Though you might need the victim demographics." She pauses. "What's going on, Kudou?" She asks, not giving me a clue as to what she means.

"Not much. Aya translated our Latin for me. I'm working on mapping out the disappearances and body discoveries. Where's this one at, by the way?" I grab my orange highlighter and have it poised over the map.

"Shinjuku Station." She replies automatically. "Wait, Aya helped? I thought you didn't want anyone involved?" She doesn't conceal the smug tone. Figured she'd notice that eventually.

"Yeah. I asked him for help since you and Manx already involved him somewhat. That and he has more knowledge of the language than I do." I make a fair-sized dot on my map. "That's a pretty busy place to crucify someone, Birman." Granted, it IS half past midnight.

Aya gives me a look that would mean almost nothing on anyone else, but I can tell it's his version of surprise. He mouths 'crucified' at me.

I nod to him as I cap my highlighter and shift the phone around. I really need to invest in Bluetooth or something.

"Even busier on the tracks, but that didn't stop them apparently. A worker noticed and shut down the station."

"Didn't catch anyone? Security cameras being checked?" I ask, fairly well guessing the answer since Kritiker's involved.

"The camera monitoring that section was mysteriously inoperable." I can hear the sarcasm dripping.

"Nice." I reply. Standing up and putting on my boots, I look toward Aya. "We both have morning shift, but I'll make it. It's up to you if you want to come or not."

He looks almost startled that I even offer, given my secretive nature on this case. He nods before heading to his room.

Birman's voice sounds a mix of surprised and almost suggestive. "Abyssinian's coming along? You're even offering?"

I do sigh, again. "Yeah. He's in this enough I guess. We had quite a time at Fury, Birman. He's in this deeper than I'd like him to be already. Keeping him in the dark only puts him in more danger, at this point." I glance toward my mission coat. "Balinese gear, street clothes, or 'Dr. Satoshi' uniform?" It'd be nice to know who I'm supposed to be before I walk in.

"Satoshi."

"How are we going to explain Aya?" I ask, grabbing the lab coat and hurrying to Aya's room before he dons mission gear.

"Your assistant or a cop. Whichever he can pull off better." She replies absently. It's obvious that this masquerade doesn't much concern her at this point.

I don't knock. I just crack the door and speak softly inside. "Dress like a doctor's assistant or a cop. Whichever you've got."

Aya, half in mission gear, opens the door to give me a dirty look.

I shrug and point to the phone. Not my fault, buddy. Blame the boss-lady.

He shuts the door in my face.

"Have them keep the body up until I arrive then. Go ahead and get pictures and statements." Giving orders is new to me as an assassin, at least since Aya joined. I'm sure she's already ahead of me, though.

"Manx is keeping the news and the station workers at bay. Hurry up, Kudou." She hangs up.

* * *

I'm surveying a crucified body for the first time in my life. Well, I guess it's still technically a crucifixion. He IS nailed to an X shaped wooden structure. Upside down. Guess that adds a little something to your dying moment. He may not have had much of a moment; they DID slit his throat. Probably making too much noise in too public of a place. Why the subway?

Birman approaches me, not acknowledging Aya's presence beside me. "Pictures are taken. Statements from the worker who found it are taken. Operable surveillance camera footage will be reviewed at Kritiker headquarters."

I nod. "Good. Find any identifying information on the victim?" I start walking toward the scene. They did leave his pants on; there might be a wallet.

"No. We made sure he wasn't disturbed."

Aya trails behind us, possibly unused to the whole crime scene routine.

I tilt my head. "Can we get the entire set-up to the lab?" I ask, unsure of how this would be done. I'm also unsure of how to get him off the gigantic wooden X.

Birman tilts her head the opposite direction. We make a pair. "Um...We can try. Why?"

I shrug. "I figure it'll be easier to collect trace evidence, but so long as someone goes over the body and someone goes over the...X...it'll be fine."

She straightens back up and nods. "I'll make sure they search for fibers, blood that's not his, skin, et cetera."

I right my head and walk toward it some more. "Body going to Ikkudo's lab?" I stop. "Someone's got an eye fetish or something." I decide as I finally notice that the body has none.

She almost chuckles. "I was wondering when you'd notice."

"I'll want to make sure there's no markings like on Lahn." I pause. "It meant 'you all have sinned', apparently."

She nods, somewhat solemnly. "That we have."

* * *

Birman and I stand aside while mouse-man finishes with his autopsy. Don't ask me how, but Kritiker managed to get the entire X here with the body still attached. Aya's off to our side reviewing the report of what the station worker saw. I've already read it; twice, in fact. The usual, almost. He saw no one, heard no one, but -- and here's the weird part -- he smelled something. A whiff of "an earthy fragrance, sort of like burning autumn leaves" is what set him searching for something; he thought there might be a fire. Found no traces of people, other than a pile of ash and the dead guy. The dead CRUCIFIED guy, let me make that as clear as he did, although I won't repeat it as much.

"Let me know what they determine that ash to have once been, if they can tell at all." I remind Birman, who turns a fraction to look at me.

She nods. "What are you hoping for, Balinese?" Her voice is deeper, sterner. She must have been thinking about this mission and it bothers her.

I shrug. "An herb or some type of plant." It's conversation. At this point, I won't begrudge any conversation, even Ken's soccer-filled ones. "An offering. A cleansing. A ritual."

Birman's mouth quirks up into something of a smile. "Kritiker chose you, Balinese, because of just this very thing." She turns back to watching mouse-man. "Manx and I knew that you would be our best option for getting into their heads, as unpleasant as that may be."

"Gee, thanks." I remark, although even she can tell that it's only half-heartedly. I'd been somewhat worried about my place in Kritiker. What happens to an old assassin who's outlived their use? I really didn't want to find out. Somehow I doubted that they'd just let me go with a new identity or something. I know too much, I've seen too much. I'm a liability to them if I become useless.

Mouse-man walks over to us, handing me his report. "Cause of death appears to be exsanguination. Toxicity screens are running, like you asked." He denotes me here with a bow of his head. I mean, really, how do you subdue someone long enough to crucify them? There was enough blood in enough places around him that I figured he was still alive when they slit his throat. "Other than the wounds from...aah...crucifixion...and the laceration of his throat, the only other signs of trauma were some lacerations along his back."

"Let me guess," I can't help but try this one, "whip tracks?"

He nods. "They do appear to be such, Dr. Satoshi." I could have sworn Birman mentioned my codename around this guy.

"If they managed to get him to carry that X to the station, I'll eat my coat." It's all getting kinda cliche at this point.

Aya makes a disapproving noise from my side. I'd almost forgotten that he was here. He's so damn quiet.

"Alright. Thanks for coming out so late, Dr. Ikkudo." I almost don't remember his name. One day I'm going to slip and call him mouse-man to his face. "Please let us know what the tox screens show." I indicate Birman with a tilt of my head, but that's probably the only contact number he has.

He beams. "It's no trouble, doctor. I only hope to be of help to you and Miss Birman." Oh smarmy. He bows and, without much of bow in return, I about-face toward the door.

Birman stays long enough to make sure he has the contact number and then is on our heels. Yes, OUR heels, as Aya was practically ahead of me going toward the door.

* * *

The ride back is fatigue-ridden. At times, I think Aya's starting to nod off, but he just turns to give me a pointed stare instead. It's not his usual criticizing face, nor his disdainful face. He's just looking, almost like he's appraising something.

"I'm not going to fall asleep, Aya. I'll get us home in one piece, I promise."

His gaze moves back down toward his hands in his lap. "That isn't it."

I raise an eyebrow. Something in his tone says that this isn't the time for jokes. "What's on your mind, Aya?" I ask, my voice turning out softer and more intimate than I'd intended it to.

He gives a half sigh. "It was all so different, so unusual..." He doesn't seem like he's going to finish that thought.

I nod, even though he probably can't see me. "Yeah, it's not every day your victim is crucified. Well, it's more likely than normal in our line of work, but still." We've dealt with some pretty messed up people in our time.

"That's not it either."

Now I'm stumped. "What's different, Aya?" I know it's irritating to keep addressing him by name with each question, but I can't stop myself from doing it. Maybe it's the guilty pleasure I get from hearing his name sliding off my lips.

"You were in charge." It's said so definitively, like there isn't any doubt in his mind.

"Huh?" I reply, feeling vaguely idiotic.

He gives me that just-looking gaze again. "You gave the orders to everyone. You were the one calling the shots. Not that doctor, not me, not even Birman."

Am I not allowed? Is it that shocking when I do something proactively? "You do it all the time, Aya. It's not that odd." It was my case first. The only ones well-informed of it are myself and Birman. I'm not even sure how much Manx knows.

He shakes his head. I wonder if he's always this expressive when tired. "Not to Birman. No one orders her around." He pauses. "No one but you."

"And Persia." I say, lamely throwing logic in there. I hope he's not insinuating something between me and Birman.

He ignores me. "She really trusts you with this. She even said so herself."

I assume he's referring to her remark about profiling. "That's part of why I don't want to fuck this up, Aya." I admit. It's not even the main reason, but it's still a part of it. It may bother him that I'm sort of in charge here, but he doesn't seem angry or even miffed.

He nods, his red hair bobbing. "Let me know what I can do to help you, whenever you need it."

I can take the remark two ways, but I opt for the dream where Aya's just genuinely being nice. "Thanks, Ayan." Okay. My trip into strangeville has to stop here for the night. "You going to be okay for shift? It IS almost five in the morning."

He nods again. Lucky for him that I can catch that sort of thing in my peripheral vision. "I'll be fine. I recommend catching a few hours of sleep after our shift before you start up on this again, Kudou."

"That does sound like a plan." Sleep would be nice if it weren't constantly nightmare-ridden. "What are you going to do after shift?" I ask, vaguely curious if he'll tell me.

He considers for a moment. "Write back to Aya-chan. Sleep for no longer than three hours. Check on you to see if you need help." He shrugs here, like it's not a big deal.

I opt to travel a happier conversation route. "So how's she doing in England?"

He fills me in, well, in his own fashion. "Well. She's got a work-study job now and tells me to send less money." From his posture, I can tell this idea doesn't please him.

"She's just trying to be independent. If she needs help, I'm sure you'll find out and pitch in." I hint rather strongly here that I know he has Kritiker agents keeping an eye on her, her school progress, and her finances. "Let her try to make you proud."

He turns to just-look at me again, seeming to consider the possibility that she might be trying to prove herself. "You're right." He says, rather softly, looking away again.

"She's got the best brother in the world, Aya. That's got to be a lot to live up to."

He gives one of his sort-of-smiles, but otherwise doesn't acknowledge the compliment. "She's already the best sister."

Ick. Cheesy-Aya alert. Maybe late night conversations AREN'T the best way to go with Aya. I pull into the Koneko and watch Aya get out of Seven. We quietly head upstairs to get changed. "Hey, Aya?" I call softly when he's unlocked his door.

He pauses, looking over his shoulder at me.

"Thanks for the sandwich." I give a wink and head into my room before he can reply.

* * *

Our shift goes by with little trouble. Aya immediately reverted back to stoicism as soon as we opened the shop gate, but that wasn't wholly unexpected. I'd almost be a little jealous if he were as unguarded with everyone as he was with me on the way home last night. The lack of sleep is almost imperceptible in him, were it not for the slight inattentiveness. I caught myself having to say his name a little louder than usual or more than once to get his attention for something.

Ken arrives just before Omi shows up with the droves of schoolgirls. Without much preamble, Aya and I hand over our aprons and he immediately heads upstairs.

"What's his deal?" Ken comments, slightly glaring up at the empty staircase.

Omi ties the apron around himself. "Probably just a long day." I enjoy that the kid can always attribute grouchiness to some external cause rather than someone just being a douchebag. Part of me thinks it's too naive for our line of work and part of me hopes he never loses that quality.

"He's probably just tired, KenKen." I remark, trying to ward off the fangirls long enough for my own escape.

Ken's brow wrinkles. "What does he have to be tired about? He never leaves the Koneko, his sister's safe, there hasn't been any...additional work the last few days." Ken's always been quick on the draw when it comes to Aya, but lately I've been reading a lot into it.

I shrug, hoping that it comes off as nonchalant. "Maybe he has nightmares."

The two younger assassins stare thoughtfully at the staircase for a moment and I take that opportunity to head upstairs. A couple hours sleep are awaiting me.

* * *

I wake up to pounding on my door, gasping for air and drenched in sweat. A quick glance at the clock tells me that I've been asleep for three hours, a record as of late. I swing myself out of bed and head to the door, still catching my breath. The second I have it partially opened it's shoved at me and Aya steps in, looking somewhat alarmed, at least for Aya.

"What happened, Kudou?" He asks, giving me a quick once-over. His eyes are drilling into mine.

A hand comes up unconsciously to run through my hair. "Anou..." I mumble, somewhat embarrassed to be in this situation.

His eyebrow merely raises. "I heard screaming." For a second, he almost looks compassionate.

I sigh and look away. I hate admitting weaknesses. "I've been having nightmares, Ayan." I realize that I'm shirtless and the sweat is cooling to make it rather cold in here. I move toward my dresser and grab a light sweater, throwing it on. "I've always had them, but they've just been so frequent lately."

He startles me by moving over to my bed, righting the covers, and sitting down. He's still looking at me expectantly.

I look down at the floor. "I didn't mean to wake you, Aya. I'm sorry." I really am. I put on a happy face so no one else has to deal with my shit. It keeps me from looking weak and prevents people from getting sick of listening to my drama.

"Don't be." He replies smoothly, as if I'd apologized for the weather.

I fidget. This may be one of the most awkward moments of my life. Certainly not THE most awkward, but definitely on the list. "I hate bothering people with them." I mutter, sounding pretty lame even to my own ears. I shut the door, shuffle over, and sit on the edge of the bed, completely surprised to note that Aya has pulled himself up onto my bed and is sitting with his knees to his chest.

Absently, I note that he's wearing a pair of what appear to be flannel pants with the shirt he wore to work this morning. He rests his cheek against his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs. He's watching me, for what, I don't know. "I think nightmares are a byproduct of what we do." He pauses for a moment. "I'd be surprised if one of us lived nightmare-free."

My heart is accelerating, I note off-handedly. Whether it's from being embarrassed at having been caught screaming my lungs out or from having Aya's hither-to unbeknownst compassionate side (well, it's only been displayed towards his sister before, as far as I know) turned my way, I'm not sure. I haul myself up and sit with my back against the headboard and my knees to my chest.

I finally look his way and catch his amethyst gaze on me, just watching. At least, it doesn't seem to be a critical stare. "What did you dream about?" He finally asks. I think I see the beginnings of a blush grace his cheeks, as though he's embarrassed by asking even remotely touchy-feely questions.

I break the eye contact. "Dead people." I finally reply, my voice coming out in almost a deadpan. "It's always dead people, or people I care about dying." After a few seconds, I risk looking back at his face, expecting the scorn.

It doesn't come. If anything, his gaze gets a little more melancholy. "Aya-chan always dies in mine." He breaks eye contact and blushes for sure this time. The admission that he's human cost him a bit of pride.

I'm not sure how to recover from this unexpected bit of information. At least, my mind isn't sure, my mouth fills in the silence without the mind's permission. "I'd wondered, you know, how you did it."

His eyebrow raises, visible even with his cheek against his knees.

I move my gaze to rest on something neutral, which just happens to be his bare feet. He didn't even grab slippers before dashing to my rescue. I unwittingly give a ghost of a smile at that image of Aya EVER coming to my rescue from anything. "You're really the only one of us that has someone outside of Weiss that's still alive. Someone dear to them." I clarify since he could argue that Ken has his soccer-brats and Omi (might) have friends from school. He had Ouka and that ended disastrously. "It must be rough, having that much to lose." All I have are ghosts, well, that and nightmares of Weiss dying torturously painful deaths, which was the fare tonight...err...afternoon.

He nods against his knees, still looking away. "It's why I keep such tabs on her." Suddenly, his gaze shifts back to me. "Who died tonight, in your dream?" Surprisingly, he doesn't blush this time.

I think he realized that I'd been diverting the focus onto him. Damnit. I bury my face in my knees, hoping it hides the blush that I know will be there. This is absolutely mortifying. I wonder if I can divert him again? If I do, will he ever open up to me again? Is preventing my embarrassment worth the risk?

"Youji?" He never uses my name. Well, okay, very rarely does he call me Youji.

It's not worth the risk to lose this chance of openness just to save my pride. Having him trust me like this is worth it, I tell myself. Nevertheless, the answer comes out muffled and probably unintelligible against my knees. He's being very patient with me for some reason. Maybe he knows what this is costing me as well. I sigh and scoot my head down to where my forehead is against my knees, giving me room to talk audibly. "You."

There isn't a reply, but I only let the silence linger for a few scant seconds.

"You, Aya." I repeat. "You die because of me...and I can't save you." I don't look up to see his reaction.

After a few agonizing minutes (at least it feels like minutes), he replies in a voice barely above a whisper. "It's a realistic fear. We all might die in every mission."

Thanks for rationalizing it, Ayan. I'm not sure if that's better or worse than him reading more into it. "I know." That's the best I can muster without giving myself away. I don't want him to know that he's my something dear. It's a secret I'm likely to take to my grave.

So softly that it's almost inaudible, I hear a reply. "At least you try to save me."

I pull my head up to where my eyes are poking out above my knees. He's looking away, staring off at a wall or something, his eyes unfocused and what I would describe as sad. I tentatively rest my chin on my knees, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. "You're my friend, Aya. I'll always try to save you." I give him a genuine little smile, not a flamboyant Kudou Youji devil-may-care grin, but an honest heartfelt little smile.

He looks over at me and, after a few seconds, gives a tiny little smile of his own. The world has officially stopped for me, the butterflies in my stomach fly away, and everything is okay for this moment. The moment seems to be a little too fluffy for him, so he speaks. "Aya-chan asked about you, specifically, in her last letter."

Only the Fujimiya's would, in the age of email, texting, and video chat, communicate by postal mail. International postal mail, at that. "Eh?" I quip. It's painful to be so eloquent.

"She asked how you were getting along lately." He elabourates, never breaking eye contact now that we're in slightly more familiar waters. Slightly more familiar...ish. "Do you talk to her?" He asks, looking genuinely interested rather than standoffish.

I shake my head. "She gave each of us her telephone number in case of emergencies before she left," there's no need to elabourate on what would constitute an emergency with a house full of assassins, "but no, I've never contacted her." I really didn't think I'd be allowed. Aya can be a bit overprotective sometimes of Aya-chan. "Hey, Aya?" I'm not sure how this is going to go over.

"Yes?" His voice is still kind of soft. It simultaneously makes me more willing to be open and makes me more cautious, waiting for the ambush.

"Anou..." I tilt my head, trying for inconspicuous again. "I'm not sure if the others ever asked, but did you want us to keep calling you Aya or would you prefer Ran?" Now I'm waiting for angry-Aya to emerge.

Some unnamed emotion flickers across his face, but it's gone before I can really analyze it. He takes a minute to think. "It really doesn't matter; I'm still the same person." He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes. "After all, you're the one who named me Aya."

I have the decency to look sheepish here. "Well, you weren't offering anything up at the time. This time, it should be your choice." Truth be told, it'll be hard for me to adjust to calling him anything other than Aya, but it IS his life and he should be able to pick what he'd like to be called.

He gives a tiny shrug, barely perceptible. "Whichever."

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at this indecisiveness. "Well, we can test the waters. I'll try to call you Ran, at least when it's just us around. If that gets too weird for you, we can go back to Aya." A name is kind of important, at least, I've always thought so. "Would that be okay?"

He nods after a moment. "When it's just you and me for a while. The others will notice and probably make a mess out of trying to do the same." The tilt of his head and the very slight smile indicate his humour in that statement.

More than likely, I blush. I feel more than just a little special to have anything on the level of 'when it's just you and me' with him. I make an attempt to cover it up. "Omi takes these things to heart. It took me weeks to get him to stop calling me Kudou-san when I first joined Weiss."

He raises an eyebrow.

I chuckle. "Yeah, the idea of being called Kudou-san makes me feel a little ridiculous."

His eyes grow distant. "Youji?" His voice has lost most of the softness.

"Yeah?" Now I'm worried. I hate distant, cold Aya.

"How close are you to solving this case?" He gestures to the piles of stuff on my floor.

I sigh. "Not nearly as close as I'd like." I admit. "Have any theories?"

"Not really." He confesses. "Fury seems suspect, with their treatment of that woman."

I nod. "Josh once mentioned some missing patrons. That's why I've been exploring that venue more than the rest." That and those whispering people really creeped me out.

He gives me an appraising look. "Why did you tell me to be careful? What has you convinced that we're next?"

I look away. "The things they were saying that night. Messiah and the One." I check for recognition, which is evident in his face. "I figure they're two separate people."

He nods. Perhaps he's trying to be patient with me.

"A lot of it is just a feeling I get." I confess. I ignore his skeptical look. "If they are Satanists, I don't think they'd really like a Messiah, if that's how they're meaning it." I know this probably isn't making much sense. "I figure they've decided that one of us is this Messiah, so I figure they'd try to eliminate it." I'm not sure how to explain it, really. "They kept mentioning the Master, so if they're Satanists, then that person's reasonably likely to be safe from harm. Well, as safe as you can get with crazy cultists."

He nods, not really questioning these speculations of mine. "Any idea which of us is which?" It's a fair question.

"Nope." I give an audible sigh. A few minutes of silence pass. "Ran?" I ask, mostly just to hear the name from my lips.

He gives a somewhat startled look over, as though he were either asleep or not expecting me to ever really call him that. "Yes?" He recovers nicely.

"Just be careful, okay?" Here I grow almost timid; it's kind of embarrassing. "In case I can't save you."

His brow furrows slightly. It'd almost be a concerned look if it weren't coming from him. "I will." He promises. "You be careful too." He looks away immediately after saying this, possibly embarrassed to be catering to emotions like concern.

I nod and try to smile a little for him. We both look so tired. My hand, unbidden, is rising up to brush his hair back when my phone rings. With a start, I snatch it from the nightstand and answer it. "Kudou."

"Kudou, I realize that you haven't been able to get much sleep, but we've got another crucifixion." Birman's voice ghosts out from my phone.

"So soon?" I wonder aloud. "Where at?"

"Near the train tracks on the outskirts of Harajuku." She replied, sounding very tired of this case. "There's no need to come out. We had to get it down as soon as possible since it's still daylight. I'll send you the specifics by email." She pauses and I don't offer anything. I don't know what to say. Without realizing it, I've gotten up and added an orange dot to my map. "Kritiker wants you to finish your investigation of Fury. Use whatever means necessary, just get it done tonight."

Fabulous. Going in practically blind. "Right." Is all I can manage before she hangs up.

"Another?" Ay-Ran's voice startles me somewhat. I'd almost forgotten he was here.

I nod. "She'll send the specifics." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "You're the leader, I need your advice."

He nods, expectant.

"Kritiker wants the investigation of Fury finished tonight, by whatever means necessary." I look up at him, tired green eyes meeting tired violet ones. "Should it be just you and I or should we involve all of Weiss?"

He considers it for a moment. "We'll all mobilize. Better safe than sorry." He makes a (somewhat undignified) movement to get up before I rise and offer my hand to pull him up. He surprisingly takes my assistance. "You'll have to brief the others."

It might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn he squeezed my hand before letting it go and walking out of my room.

* * *

* * *

There you have it. Feel free to comment and make suggestions. It deviated from where I wanted it to go with the one-on-one conversation between Aya and Youji there at the end. I'm sure Aya's out of character.

I also pose a challenge of sorts. I'm terrible at writing Aya's perspective. (Obviously, if he's OOC now, can you imagine a first-person view?) I'd like to see someone write scenes from Chosen through Aya's perspective. I'd keep the dialogue between Aya and Youji as much as possible, but feel free to add dialogue between Aya and other characters.


	6. Chapter 6

Chosen (chapter six)

Author: Shukujo Kurai

Warnings: shounen-ai, OOC, ...supernatural (for lack of better terms)

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Wei . I do own Josh, Hideo, Yuri, Lanh, and all the dead people. ^_^;;;;

Author's Notes: 6 years later - still unfinished. Now I'm working on editing and rewriting bits to make everything flow better. I hope. Please comment/review. I'd really appreciate the help. This is currently un-Beta-ed. After that six years, I've lost contact with my beta reader. If there are any volunteers, please let me know!

Thanks: There are so many of you now, it's hard to keep track! Special thanks go to my recent reviewers who have been hanging in there (some of you for years!). Sammie, Kay, Mar.s, AcharI, chanchan, met, Lizz, & Kathi - you guys rock!

* * *

Personally, I'm convinced that the events of earlier were a dream or sleep-deprived hallucination. As soon as everyone was gathered, Aya was back to acting like I wasn't worth the effort involved in gathering everyone up for a last-minute mission. Well, perhaps that's in some way true, considering I don't have this thing solved on my own yet, but still... It'd be nice to dream.

The debriefing, as it were, went about as well as an infant trying to swim. (Yeah, the morbidity of the case keeps growing on me and festering.) Omi looked at me as though I were a mentally handicapped child trying to perform brain surgery. I know data gathering is his thing and it's natural that he should be ridiculously able to poke holes in my work, really, I understand that. It doesn't help that I was still leaving out some specifics, namely how the brutality and gore have been escalating as of late. Aya raised an eyebrow when I glossed some of that over, but he remained quiet about it, surprisingly. He'll likely go fill Ken and Omi in behind my back, but somehow that doesn't bother me nearly as much as I thought it would have.

Since it was during the afternoon shift that I got the call from Birman, there isn't much time for Omi to do much additional research before we mobilize after dark. We're likely to be flying in blind because of things that I probably missed and that bothers me. I do not like the idea of Weiss dying because of my inattention or inability. I think the chibi picked up on my nervousness because he does an impressive show of being on his laptop from the time we close to the time he has to get dressed for the mission. Here's to Omi: ever-observant and ever-compassionate, even to those of us who don't really deserve it.

* * *

Fury is, as usual, packed with goths. Omi remains outside within sight of the club hacking surveillance and doing whatever else he does with the laptop. Ken is valiantly wading through goths primarily around the bar while Aya and I are staring at the entrance to the basement. We agreed on the way over that we'd go down separately. Last time showing up together went over so swimmingly, you know. I opted to go down first, since I knew the persons involved more and I handed him the card that Josh had given me that first night, hoping that'd suffice to let him in. Really, I'd rather go down first in case something does happen; he's in less danger that way. I'd never tell him this, not in a million years, but he acquiesces all the same. We'd never really discussed how long it'd be before he'd follow me down though. I suppose it isn't all that important of a detail. The building plans don't show any exits from the basement other than the one we're staring at and even if I'm attacked I should have enough skill to hold them off long enough before Aya notices that something's wrong. Besides, as in all missions where we're split up, we're all mic-ed. Weiss should hear something so long as I can push the call button. The only thing that really still bothers me is that we've never identified a ringleader. Even Omi couldn't come up with anything from that damned composite Kritiker gave me.

Aya elbows me roughly on my right side, drawing my attention. I'd figured it was his way of telling me to hurry the hell up, but as I look over at him, I see that he's discretely cringing away from something. Oh. Someone. I try to hide a chuckle, I really do. If only I had a camera, I could immortalize this moment wherein Lilith the bee-lady is petting Aya's right arm and staring up dazedly at him, muttering something about hornets. I really kid you not. Hornets. Acid-spitting hornets, no less.

"Do you-" I don't get any further in my attempt at rescuing Aya before he roughly shoves me forward toward the basement, quite obviously frustrated and flustered with Lilith's antics and blatant invasion of his personal space. I start to move back toward him, but I'm greeted with only a glare and another shove. Oookay, no knight in shining leather for Ayan. (Our typical mission gear works quite well here in goth-ville, by the way.) Ah well, whatever he dishes out, I'm sure Lilith deserves it and more. With a shrug, I head for the basement. "Balinese, heading down" is all I say into the mic as discretely as possible to which Omi gives his acknowledgment.

The doorman gives me an enthusiastic wave in response to my own, acting like we're old friends. It throws up my guard instantly. I'm in enough clubs to know that there are hundreds of people you see every night. One face that you've seen one time shouldn't stick out like that. There's a chance he's just like that with everyone; he was kinda overly friendly the first time. Still, it raises my suspicions and I don't drop my guard.

The stairs are clear just like last time (and this time I don't have Aya gawking at bondage goths and bottle-necking the process) and I have no trouble making it downstairs. I'm doing a quick visual sweep of the room when I hear my name screamed. My eyes dart in the direction of the voice and I see Josh, the bartender, being roughly yanked backward into a larger man's arms and having a knife pressed to his throat.

I start to step forward, intending to...well...do something.

"Behind you!" He shouts, the blade pressing into his skin.

I don't turn or dodge in time before pain rips through my skull. So much for being on my guard. Dazed, I look up from the ground where I've sprawled into the blurry throbbing masses just in time to see the weapon (a crowbar? a tire iron? my vision can't make it out) as it descends on me again. I throw my arms up reflexively, deferring the blow somewhat. It grazes my head and clips my right shoulder hard. Equally reflexively, I grapple the assailant for the weapon (whatever it is) and at least manage to get to my feet. As the man and I are struggling for the object, I hear another warning cry.

"Duck!"

Trusting in disembodied voices screaming commands, I do and miraculously assailant number two misses with the fire extinguisher he was wielding as a club. I don't let go of the first man though, instead giving him a swift kick to the knee. Even over the ruckus we're causing, I can take some amount of satisfaction in the crunch-like noise that his now broken or at least dislocated knee makes and the scream he gives.

"Damn it, do it right!" A new voice yells. "Flood him!" I don't know what that means, precisely, but I'm sure it's not good.

It's not. At least four others grab onto me almost simultaneously, weighing me down. Dazed, vision still spinny-throbby, I still manage to sling some of them around. Fight or flight fully kicking in, I guess. I'm personally opting for fight-in-order-for-flight-to-be-a-possibility, but that's just me. I don't have Ken or Aya's deranged sense of fight-to-the-death-despite-the-odds. Nay nay. Self-preservation would be my option, but as I hear the thwup-click of what I assume to be a dart-launching device I know that self-preservation hasn't won out.

I keep punching and kicking, trying desperately to get the chance to get my wire out. I can't spot the man with the dart-launcher, whom I'm assuming would be the ringleader, despite my efforts. It is regrettably difficult to fight off six plus people and search for a random guy with a small weapon.

At last, I manage to get a hold of my watch and I send my wire out, successfully lassoing two of them around the neck. At this point, there is no hesitation; I yank with all my strength, their throats tearing open, yielding to the sharp wire. I shake them loose and send the wire out again, this time to prevent Mr. Fire Extinguisher Club from coming at me again. He drops his makeshift weapon as his wrist gushes blood. I recall my wire; stopping him is faster right now than taking the time to get my satisfaction from severing his wrist.

"Fuck!" I hear the probable-ringleader shout. "Ryo! Restrain!"

I turn to attack him, my vision nearly worthless at this point. Whatever was in the dart is kicking in full-force, but I guess the adrenaline is keeping me going. I hear footsteps, even over the noise of the scuffle, so I turn and see the largest man I think I've ever seen coming right at me. I swing my wire at him, perceiving him as the greatest threat. He's not amused. He catches it with his tree trunk-like arm and yanks me toward him, even as he's charging at me. I'm pulled into his rushing form and his massive arms wrap around me, squeezing every bit of air from my lungs. Almost immediately, I hear the thwup-click and feel a prick (it hurts less the second time, probably a result of being distracted by my likely shattering ribs) at the back of my neck.

Despite being crushed and probably tranquilized again, I keep struggling. I've been in worse, I know I have. I just have to keep fighting long enough for Aya to show up. Just that long...

Just another minute.

Instead, my lungs protest and my vision fully blackens. A few more kicks and a half-hearted attempt at biting is all I can manage before I can no longer move.

* * *

A/N: Cliffhanger is intentional, sorry. Please, please let me know what you think. I'm not exceptional at writing fight scenes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chosen** _(chapter seven)_

Author: Shukujo Kurai

Warnings: shounen-ai, OOC, ...supernatural (for lack of better terms), violence in this chapter

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss. I do own Josh, Hideo, Yuri, Lanh, and all the dead people. ^_^;;;;

Author's Notes:

7 years later - still unfinished. Now I'm working on editing and rewriting bits to make everything flow better. I hope. Please comment/review. I'd really appreciate the help. This is currently un-Beta-ed. After these seven years, I've lost contact with my beta reader. If there are any volunteers, please let me know!

Thanks: There are so many of you now, it's hard to keep track! Special thanks go to my recent reviewers who really left encouragements. I feel all warm and giggly when I read them. Lol. Special thanks to blackorcid, Kate the Night, Sammie, RodiSquall, & Lizz.

* * *

Voices are fuzzy when I begin to stir. I know I'm hearing unfamiliar voices, so I keep my eyes shut for now since I'm not one-hundred percent certain if the owners of the voices are nearby. It won't do to let them know that I've mostly regained consciousness. I'm not sure how long I've been out. Sedatives are tricky like that; Omi once tried to explain it to me when he was toying with the possibility of tranquilizer darts. Something about the exact dosage being needed for the target, otherwise it'll do one of two things (besides knock the target unconscious for a short amount of time): do absolutely nothing (which obviously wasn't the case here) or kill them by stopping the heart or lungs or something. So...I've already been way too close to death for comfort once already. Omi made the most sense when he summed it up with 'well, anesthesiologists wouldn't be needed if anyone could do it'. It made sense that way. They went to school for it, presumably a lot of school. Somehow I doubt my 'doctors' here went to school for much of anything.

Over the course of a few minutes, my keen sense of hearing is mostly restored. They're bickering, whoever they are, about how to begin my 'trials'. Trials? Really? What the fuck? What've I done to merit a trial? Not that I should be complaining about something that could take up time and allow for rescue, but it doesn't make a lot of sense. Of course, most of this case hasn't made sense up until now, so why should it change? Again I hear them butcher the word 'messiah'. Not much else stands out, really. So I'm the messiah, huh? Pssh. Weirdest cult ever if they think that. I mean, sometimes I pretend that I'm an awesome vigilante for justice, but that's really just me trying to cope with the fact that I kill people on nearly a daily basis. Aya called it rationalization once, I think. He actually agreed when I rephrased it for Ken as 'whatever helps you sleep at night'. Okay, as close to agreeing as Aya gets. Speaking of Aya, where the fuck is he? I could really use the back up right about now.

I take the risk to crack one eye open. I see feet and legs - a lot of them. The room's not very bright, but it's definitely not the room I was attacked in. Here my mind goes in to overdrive. I don't remember there being a side room or anything to the basement of Fury. There sure as hell weren't multiple exits on the building plans Omi acquired. So where the hell am I? Surely they couldn't have gotten me out of the basement without the rest of Weiss noticing. Even Ken's not THAT unobservant...right? Ah hell.

A boot steps backward onto my hand and I don't curb the instinct to pull away fast enough. "Ah... Awake, are we?" It's almost a familiar voice. I'm struggling to place it. I can't fight the paranoid reaction to pull myself into a seated position, which they surprisingly allow (I wouldn't have allowed a victim to gain any sort of control). I try to surreptitiously check for my watch, but only meet bare skin.

"Yes, that was a surprise, thank you very much." The deep voice comments, obviously seeing my motions. My eyes are open all the way and I'm trying to look around despite the dizziness. "You'll find that we've confiscated your weapon for safety's sake." He chuckles.

I finally hone in on which of the people is speaking. I blink. I remember to breathe. I blink again. Red contacts and his hair pulled back, dressed in black-on-black I'm-a-cultist business suit is Hideo. Sonofbitch. He chuckles. "My mother was rather demanding and whiny, so I'll let you pass on that one." He smirks at me. I apparently said that out loud. He looks down at my now-crouching form in sheer amusement. I hate cocky targets. I barely pause to wonder how I can shift someone from acquaintance to target in half a second. Betrayal knows my name so well.

Fuck it. "What the hell is going on?" Play dumb. Act confused. Pretend you don't know anything about their freaky little cult games.

He fake-chuckles. "As if you didn't know." Shit. I start looking for an easy exit. "We've been searching for you for a long time, Messiah." He informs me casually, articulating the word perfectly. Guess he'd have to know English if he lives with Josh. I glance around. The crowd appears to be absent one American bartender. Well, maybe I wasn't completely betrayed. Ha. Un-fucking-likely.

"Messiah?" I ask. Well, I've been wanting to know about this nonsense anyway. No time like the present to ask since I'm surrounded and can't see well enough to find an exit, as there are no handy neon EXIT signs anywhere visible.

He steps forward, stopping maybe a yard or so from me. "Yes. I'm certain you know what a Messiah is."

I blink. That's not an assumption I'd have made, but okay. "Perhaps not how you're using the word." I'm still looking for the weakest links in the crowd, hoping that those have useful weapons.

He rolls his eyes at me and sighs. "You can be incredibly dense." His arms cross in front of him. "For your crimes you will be tried by two courts and if either find you guilty of your charges, you will be sentenced appropriately."

I stagger to my feet. "What crimes? What the hell have I done?" I mean really, what have I done to these people? I haven't even successfully thwarted them at anything. For everything I HAVE done in life, doing nothing is what I'll be punished for? WTF karma?

Two significantly burly men shove my shoulders downward, but I instinctively twist my body to remain upright since they didn't hold on to my shoulders. This does not please them in any way, shape, or form. Instead of trying it again like I would expect of such brutes, they kick the back of my knees and I go crashing down. I hate underestimating the muscle.

"Take him to the courtroom." Hideo orders the two muscles behind me, who immediately pick me up beneath my arms like I'm nothing at all.

Of course, being prideful, I lash out with strong kicks, which only seem to be a minor inconvenience to them. Where the hell did Hideo find these guys, the Sumo Surplus Store? I'm hefted away, kicking and bitching the entire way.

* * *

I've managed to fail to prevent myself from having my arms bound behind my back, bound by coarse rope, no less. I pissed off the muscle enough to merit a few good punches. By good punches, I do mean that one threw me into the other's punch. Physically tossed me into the air to be met with a fist. Talk about brute strength, sheesh. I don't think anything's broken, nor do I think they've managed to rupture anything internally. I assume internal bleeding would hurt a bit more than this.

"For what charges does the accused stand trial?" Hideo's cult-leader voice booms from a raised dias.

I look around because I honestly want to hear this. Various cult members look at one another like frightened and confused children. One young man, obviously more looks than brains (which is sad in his case, trust me), pipes up. "Anou...Being the mesh-ee-yah?" I don't fully muffle a chortle. Really? That's it?

Hideo blinks and gives a barely audible sigh. "What, as the messiah, has the accused done? What WILL he be capable of?" He prods, obviously getting miffed that his game isn't going according to the script in his head.

This last prompt gets more of a reaction. Several people of still-questionable intelligence speak up now. "He defends the heretics."

"He protects the wicked."

"He heals our enemies!"

"He created the heretics!"

By now my eyebrow is fully arched in full confusion. When the hell have I ever done that? Okay, I defended that one lady who was getting beaten, but that's it.

An extremely familiar face steps forward from the crowd - Professor Asks-Irritating-Questions. "He seals away our master's true power." He states calmly and confidently.

At this, Hideo smiles broadly and the crowd makes various noises ranging from agreement to slow realization. "Do we want our master to rise?" He asks the crowd, standing up from his rather boring looking chair. The crowd whoops and shouts in agreement. "How then can he rise to power when this holy seal prevents him from doing so?" He shouts to the crowd, turning his eyes to me, fake red boring into my own green. To be honest, if the situation weren't quite so dire, I'd laugh because of how comically possessed he looks with those fake red contacts in. Under the circumstances, however, it's kind of unnerving. The possessed part, at least. Not that I think he's really possessed by any sort of demon or whatever; no, this is pure madness incarnate, which is infinitely more terrifying (not to mention real). "What must we do for our master?" He shouts to the crowd again.

"Destroy the seal!" Most of them manage to shout in unison.

Well, that doesn't bode well at all. Shit. I start looking around for escape routes in earnest this time. This seems to be a warehouse of some sort, judging from the exposed rafters. It's always a warehouse, isn't it? I'm going to develop an aversion to all storage facilities by the time Kritiker lets me go.

"And why, if any reason, should the messiah go free?" Hideo asks, presumably to make this seem 'fair'.

The crowd looks at each other again, dumbfounded. A rather dull-looking goth girl raises her hand and is acknowledged by Hideo. "Because he stands with our master?"

I turn to Hideo because here's the other piece of the puzzle I agonized about. What was it about my interaction with Aya that made them so damn convinced that we're the messiah and master?

Hideo sneers at me briefly. "And did anyone witness our master's greatness?" Silence. "No! His gaze pierced all, but he remained powerless because of the messiah's seal!" He stamps his foot.

Okay, I'm confused. Aya glared at them and did nothing, so he's their master? I stood up for someone, so I'm a messiah? Huh. Makes perfect sense. If you're insane.

"Our master remains bound to the messiah's seal, acting only with the messiah's permission!" He continues to rant, spittle actually flying out of his mouth. He's passionate about his delusions regarding Aya. Thank goodness they chose to stalk me, not that I really appreciate it, but it keeps Aya out of the more-obvious danger zone. Wait...when the hell did I ever give Aya permission to do anything? This guy is batshit crazy.

"He can only act freely once the messiah is destroyed!" He's really working himself into a frenzy up there. The crowd cheers in agreement. Sigh. So much for having a second trial; that seems a little unnecessary since I'm obviously guilty. Please note my dripping sarcasm there. "We have tested many and many have failed! We have had our slaughter of the innocents. Now, we have our true Messiah!" Well, that ties them to all my corpses and probably all the missing persons at least. Not that that helps me at the moment.

"And HOW should he be destroyed? What punishment fits his crimes?" Hideo asks the crowd, trying again to squeeze some intelligent answers out of them. Well, as intelligent as any of this nonsense is.

God love their hearts (all irony intended there), they're just staring at him with this bewildered expression. Don't get me wrong, there are a few that are getting into it here; they're mostly clustering around the professor. I continue testing the ropes that bind my wrists. I keep thinking that if I fidget with it enough, it'll work its way loose, but that doesn't seem to be happening. Someone really knew how to tie knots. The crowd is gathered in a semi-circle around dais upon which Hideo's 'preaching', which makes it difficult to look for an exit around them. I try to see around Hideo instead. It seems like they've partitioned off sections of this warehouse, with what I don't know, I guess to separate the 'courtroom' from the, well, where ever I was before this. Professor Irritating speaks up when it's obvious that no one else knows. "What else would you do with a messiah?" I blink. Were it me, I'd kill it quickly before it can do some sort of freaky magic miracles or some shit. "Crucifixion." He finishes. The dumber ones of the crowd gasp in what I guess is awe. Yep. Cause I'd take the time and effort to crucify someone I wanted dead. Makes perfect sense. Fuck, no, it doesn't. I'm guessing that they're just making full usage of the Jesus parallel. I don't think these people are Satanists; they're just plain crazy. He's got a small army of impressionable youths willing to do as he says for one reason or another, whether they believe his messiah nonsense or not.

"Yes!" Hideo shouts while giving a huge grin, sounding infinitely pleased that someone is on the same page as he is. He sobers quickly. "Is this enough, though? Will it alone atone for his crimes?" He asks.

"What fucking crimes?" I finally yell. It's not my brightest moment, but then again I've never been known for my IQ.

His red contact-laden eyes settle upon my kneeling form. He calms his furor at my outburst. "Bow," is all he says. I raise an eyebrow. Like I'm gonna bow to him. The sumo guys have already forced me to my knees (if my knees make it out of here without severe injury, I'll be hella surprised); I'm sure as hell not bowing. His glance flickers behind me and he gives a barely perceptible nod. A hand grabs the back of my head and tries to force it forward, but I put all my effort in to resisting. No, I tell myself, I will bow to no man. My shoulders are pushed forward this time, but I continue my resistance. Ogg and Trog have finally had enough of my insolence and use their full force to slam me face first into the concrete floor. Oh shit, that fucking hurt! The sparkly floaty bits finally fade while the crowd is cheering. I tilt my head up so I can see something, anything other than the floor. Through the still-swirling world in front of me I can see that Hideo has moved forward to stand in front of my face. I don't contain the impulse to spit on his shoes. What did I tell you, I'm not known for my brains. He sneers and kicks me almost square in my left eye; I shifted enough just in time for it to partially catch my cheekbone. I don't fancy having a ruptured eyeball. I at least have THAT much sense.

"We'll go through the whole gamut for you." He smiles, at least I think he smiles. He either has a soccer-like kick or he's wearing some steel-toed boots, so I'm not seeing too straight at the moment. The crowd's making some noise now; they had silenced when I spat on Hideo's boots.

"I'm afraid we don't have the proper equipment for all of them, but we'll make due." Oh good, I get a poor cult. I'm not sure if that's better or worse than one who can afford all the fancy pain-makers. "Stoning was done in medieval times, I'm sure you know. Little spots of pain all over the body where each rock hit." He muses, keeping his voice well above the now mostly-quiet crowd. He pauses for a few seconds, presumably to 'build the excitement'.

"Regrettably we don't have many rocks, but I know something that can simulate the experience rather well." Oh, shame. No rocks? No more than what's in these people's heads, at least. He gives me one of the most cruelly hedonistic grins I've seen yet. "I think being kicked will suffice in their place." His face changes to all business. "All of you, kick him and don't stop until I say to." He pivots, walks off a distance, and snaps his fingers. I start to move to go after him, but the crowd starts closing in.

Oh hell no. Not without a fight, at least. I do sense the inevitability of thirty-plus against one already injured person, even if that person is a trained assassin. Still face down on the ground, I shift my weight to roll onto my side, keeping the weight mostly on my shoulders so I can whip kick some of these assholes. I connect with two people's legs and they go sprawling down as the crowd presses in. Good. I hope they get trampled.

The first kick lands right on my kidneys. Whomever that fucker is was either lucky or had a plan. The second catches my side before instinct kicks in and I curl in to protect my abdomen. Varying in their intensity, the rest fall in such quick succession that I almost immediately lose count.

* * *

When I regain consciousness this time around, I again wait and listen before opening my eyes. I can only hear far-off noises, probably from the other side of the warehouse. Now, I take stock of my equilibrium to tell me how my body is positioned. Fetal position, left side of the body. Next, I test my arms. Still bound behind me. Legs: bound, currently curled up at about a 60 degree angle from my stomach. It feels like my neck and head are craned forward. Pain level: pretty damn intense. I'm sure I've had worse, probably when I was shot and dying before Kritiker 'rescued' me. Okay, time to open the eyes.

...It's dark. Well, that was helpful. From the tiny bit of ambient light escaping from the cracks in the cult's crude partitions of the warehouse, I can see that I'm in a cage of some sort. I move my head a little, getting somewhat nauseous for my efforts.

Oh fuck no. This is fucking dog kennel! They put in me in a goddamn dog kennel!

I take a few breaths to calm myself. Out of everything, I guess it's not TOO bad. I could be suspended from a hook or cramped in a smaller box that I can't see out of. It always helps to imagine something worse. Don't get me wrong, this is degrading as hell, but no one ever really dies from humiliation. Even if they killed themselves; they didn't die from the humiliation itself, just from their own overreacting. It's all in how you perceive it. At least no one can kick me without having to go through the cage first. That's gotta be something...

I sigh. It does suck. I can't even estimate how long I've been here due to the bouts of unconsciousness. Goddamnit, Aya, where the fuck are you? I'm gonna guess that after I surprised them with the garroting watch, they made sure to check my person and remove the mic. Just a hunch. The members may be retarded, but Hideo and the professor aren't (crazy, yes; that stupid, no, unfortunately).

I pick up the sound of footsteps and, unfortunately for me, they're coming closer and closer. Shit. I'd hoped just to stay in my kennel here like a good dog until Ay-Ran comes to get me. I'll wag my tail like a happy loyal pet if that were to happen instead of what I'm actually anticipating.

"Messiiiiiah..." a voice, one which happens to be getting on my nerves, singsongs at me. Hideo. I have a name, you know. I'll even wear it on a collar if A-Ran comes to pick me up right this moment... I keep hoping that maybe I was just knocked out by a mosh pit in the basement or something and I'm just having a nightmare. I had been having them more frequently, even to the point of screaming and requiring 'rescue' from Ran. "I know you're awake, there's no sense in pretending." Yeah, I'm just going to sit right up and start chatting with you. Maybe we'll even have tea. I hear him sigh and snap his fingers. All at once, my cage door is opened just before it's roughly upturned.

Without any sense of grace, being tied up and all, I fall out of the dog kennel and onto the concrete floor. "Ouch!" I yell in indignance. "Can't a guy nap around here?" Still, not known for smarts.

Hideo snorts, possibly a form of chuckling. We'll go with that, at least. "You've been unconscious for well over an hour. Surprising, for one with divine powers. Naughty of you to try luring us into that false sense of security." He clucks his tongue in a disapproving fashion. "Now that we know you've just been faking it, we'll resume your punishments."

Oh, yay! Punishments! Just what I wanted when I woke up this morning...afternoon...whatever it was. I roll to my side to face Hideo out of habit. I don't like not seeing what's coming.

He smiles down at me. "Our makeshift stoning worked better than anticipated, so we'll be moving on to pressing." He tucks his hands in his pockets as the muscles heft me up by my bound arms. My shoulders are so not going to like it when they're untied. I'm going to be so stiff.

Pressing turns out not to be a giant ironing board and iron (thankfully), but instead is a piece of plywood with four-point restraints. The muscles knock me around a bit, presumably to keep me from fighting here in a minute when they have to untie me in order to restrain me. Unfortunately, it works in their benefit. I'm too tired and weak to fight back. I don't recall eating since the sandwich Aya-Ran made me a day ago. Or was it two days ago? Hell, I don't even know how long I've been here, much less when that was.

Ensconced in my restraints, I roll my head to look at Hideo. He's standing a meter or two away from my left side, smiling down at me. The smile is really starting to piss me off, but I guess I'd be smiling too if I knew I had my opponent at such a disadvantage. I sigh inwardly.

"Now," Hideo begins his lecture as the goths assemble around me in what I presume to be a circle. While I'm technically flat parallel against the floor, I still cannot see above my own head. "Pressing, in ancient times, was performed by tying a person, usually a witch or heretic, down and placing a board atop them." The professor and a muscle helpfully place another slightly smaller piece of plywood on my chest. I can still see, which could be a good or bad thing, depending on your perspective of the situation. I like seeing what's coming, so I'm happier with this situation than I would be with the alternative. "Weights, usually rocks, were placed on top of the board." He makes a gesture and cinderblocks are tossed onto the board. I let out a huff of air from my lungs. Somehow I didn't expect that. Should have, but didn't. "If the accused would deny the charges, more weight was added in increasing fashion." He nods and another cinderblock is thrown onto the board. This time I'm prepared and tense up before the impact.

I train my eyes on Hideo, in all his ridiculous red-contact-eyed glory. "And what, exactly, are you trying to get me to confess to?" I ask, having already guessed the range of nonsense answers they'll give me.

Hideo raises an eyebrow. Yeah, I know it was a dumb question, but I'm trying to stall here. "Oh, you know, speeding, public intoxication, being the reincarnation of the son of God, the usual." He finishes with a slow blink of his cartoonishly red eyes.

Well, not entirely expected. Okay, the Messiah slop was anticipated, but not the abundance of sarcasm. In any other situation, and I do mean ANY other, it would have been pretty funny. Not so much when it's my ass on the line. "Confess, confess, and deny, respectively." I retort smoothly, despite the probable 30 pounds of weight on my chest.

Hideo gives me that smile of his in return and nods to his followers. Another cinderblock is tossed roughly on. "Do you deny standing with the Master?" He asks in a relatively normal tone of voice, for him at least.

I raise an eyebrow this time. "The redhead?" I ask, seeing as this is likely the only time I can confirm whether or not A- Ran is the other target of their delusions.

The red eyes roll at my question. "Of course. The only other people you've been near is the heretic and my brother." He crosses his arms. "You were bad news in the beginning. I could tell by your empathy for my dream."

This time I'm sure my eyebrow hits my hairline.

He huffs. "The dark flora offering." He prompts, irritated at having to jog my memory.

Oh. The ugly-ass flower arrangement. He hugged me over that piece of shit. Never thought one of my flower arrangements would get me killed, to be honest. I didn't think they were that bad, or good, for that matter. "Ah." Is all I can manage, still bewildered that filling a florist order is what pinned me as their Messiah.

He gives a frustrated growl. Maybe he's displeased by my lack of response on that one. "Do you deny standing with our Master?" He repeats firmly, fingers starting to dig into his black-suited arms.

I frown. We're really going to belabour this point? "I guess not." I spit out. Can't really deny being seen with Ay-Ran. He smiles broadly, but I cut him off. "But Lucifer was once the highest angel, loved by God above all others. Should it be so strange that he and the messiah speak?" I probably oughtn't play into these delusions, but I'm hoping it'll buy me time, if not forestall the inevitable indefinitely.

His smile fades, then slowly reforms into a miniature version. "I suppose not, though you remember how that ended." He begins to pace in a semi-circle around my platform. I can only see him when he's at either side; the cinderblocks block the view of my feet. "When the Morningstar stood with God, his glory was dimmed by the heavenly seal of God. It wasn't until he became prince of this earth that his true power came forth."

I don't contain the urge to roll my eyes. Thank goodness I learned to bullshit long ago. "What power? The power to hide away and tempt just as many people as God leads to do good deeds?" I give a snort. Well, it's true.

Hideo grabs a cinderblock and slams it down on my chest. "His power is far greater than that, imbecile!" He snarls at me, spittle spraying my face. So gross. I hope this guy doesn't have any diseases. "The harbingers will sound the trumpets and Satan will rise, leading his army to battle that of the angels. The second angelic war will begin and God will be no more. The Master will have rule over Heaven and Earth!" The muscle toss another cinderblock onto the pile.

Yeah, batshittery. Just sayin'. I'm getting sick of this nonsense and my chest is starting to hurt. "To what end? To rule over the angels he's slaughtered or the powerless, if not dead, people? What good will that do for him, being the ruler of nothingness?"

With another snarl, another cinderblock is added. "Power is power, my dear Messiah. He will rebuild the world as he sees fit." Hideo leans back, recomposing himself somewhat.

I let out a muffled chuckle. It's hard to do any sort of breathing with what feels like 80 pounds on my chest. Is this how asthmatics feel? If so, man, I ought to lay off smoking just in case I end up with emphysema. I can't imagine that being any better. "Hideo, how did you come about all this 'knowledge'?" I don't quite manage to hide the mocking tone of my voice when I refer to his delusions. Not being able to breathe properly is probably causing some oxygen deprivation, or at least that's what I'll blame this lack of brain-to-mouth filter on.

He lifts his nose to look down at me. "Research. Years of research and conversations with the Master's subordinates." He replies as though this should be obvious and impressive. He nods and another cinderblock is added to my collection, presumably for my insolence.

I don't manage to suppress what would have been a chuckle if I weren't being crushed. It comes out as a pained wheeze instead. "Who the hell did you talk to? Other crazy people?" I hate how hindsight works, knowing that saying that will not end in my favour.

Unsurprisingly, he does not take the question well. Apparently he takes great offense to being called crazy. He's ranting and raving about how this isn't madness, it's truth. Or some shit. I'm not sure. The muscles have each thrown on an additional cinderblock, maybe in defense of their leader's supposed sanity. Black spots are starting to appear and flashes of light are trailing around my peripheral vision, so I'm not 100% focused on whatever Hideo's babbling about. My brain needs oxygen too badly for me to care about his delusions at this point.

"The lords of hell have identified you specifically as the Messiah and so you shall be treated as such!" That much breaks through my senses. Lords of hell. I'm going to be so paranoid of all religions if I make it out of here. Ran, please show up soon...

I can hear Hideo demand more weight, but none immediately comes. Maybe they ran out of cinderblocks. "Akira! Sit on him!" I force myself to focus on my surroundings out of sheer curiosity. Maybe it'll distract me from the pain and visual issues. One of the medium-sized muscles walks toward me and, with no preamble, hops up and sits on the pile of cinderblocks. I hear popping and cracking and I don't think it's from the plywood. The pain surges forward so strongly that I want to vomit. My vision blackens quickly and the last sound I hear is laughter.

* * *

Please review/comment/fav. Criticism is always welcome. Things should speed up in the next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Chosen**__ (chapter 8)_

Author: Shukujo Kurai

Warnings: shounen-ai, OOC, ...supernatural (for lack of better terms), violence in this chapter

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss. I do own Josh, Hideo, Yuri, Lanh, and all the dead people. ^_^;;;;

Author's Notes: 7 years later - still unfinished. Now I'm working on editing and rewriting bits to make everything flow better. I hope. Please comment/review. I'd really appreciate the help. This is currently un-Beta-ed. After these seven years, I've lost contact with my beta reader. If there are any volunteers, please let me know!

Thanks: There are so many of you now, it's hard to keep track! Special thanks go to my recent reviewers who really left me encouragements. I feel all warm and happy when I read them. Lol. Special thanks to blackorcid, RodiSquall, & Lizz.

* * *

Ya know, this whole loss of consciousness thing is getting out of hand. You know your life isn't quite right when that's your first thought after regaining said lost consciousness while being a devil-worshiping cult's captive. Just saying.

Breathing is the second thing I notice - specifically just how difficult it is. Fuck. How much does a cinderblock weigh? They're not entirely solid, what with those two square holes, and I think they're made of cement. Ah hell, I'm just going to guess 20 pounds. Okay. How many were tossed on my chest? Eight or nine, I'd say. So, going with best case scenario, I had about 160 pounds on me before Chunky jumped on me. He was the middle-range of the muscles, but I'm sure was pretty densely packed. I'd guess he went about 220 at the lightest. So that'd make 380 pounds on my chest, over half of which was a sudden impact. I think I can safely conclude that there are broken ribs.

Okay, enough with logic. This shit fucking hurts! I just want to lay here and whine and not have to worry about escape or what's going to happen next. I just want to be home and not have broken ribs. My mind starts to go into self-pity hysterics. I know it's counterproductive, but shit... This fucking sucks.

After a few, I force myself to calm down a bit and think rationally. Rescue, at this point, is unlikely to happen. Never pegged Aya for the rescuing-a-fallen-comrade type anyway. Ran. Whatever. I just wanted to believe in him. I keep picturing that night...afternoon, whatever - both of us in what amounts to our pajamas, sitting on my bed, having a real conversation. Not about the flower shop, not about missions, not about my character flaws - just a real open, dare I say, heartfelt conversation. That one small smile from him... I decide then that when I'm sure I'm going to die, that's what I'm going to try to remember. That one tiny smile with unguarded violet eyes.

Okay, heading back down Pity Lane. This shit isn't going to help; it's not going to get me out of here. I haven't seen much of the warehouse, so I can't pinpoint an exit to make a break for. Plus, they've partitioned off sections, which would make it more maze-like for me. Damnit. Okay, thirty or so cultists. I wasn't even able to fight them off before being injured, so I certainly won't be able to take them all on now. Holy fuck, all this is doing is making me conclude that I'm shit out of luck here. This is the end of the line. Of everything I've been through in my life, every stupid situation I've put myself in, every nearly impossible mission I've been on, THIS is what's going to kill me. Aw, hell no. I just gotta gather more information, maybe buddy-buddy with some of the weaker-minded members of Hideo's cult. I'll get out. I'll get my damn self out since no one's coming to my rescue.

Feeling a little more in control and in charge of myself, I finally open my eyes. I just sigh, or what amounts to it when breathing is nearly impossible. I'm back in my kennel, crated up like a bad dog. This shit definitely fucking sucks.

* * *

Sweet unholy Christ, when is anyone coming? I'd be glad to see the cultists about now. I've had enough time to go through my entire life and work out what all I've fucked up and what I should have done. If I get out of here, I want to start making things right. Lay off the booze, be more punctual, quit flirting so much... Too many things to list again, really.

The longer I lay here, the more and more I notice my injuries. My chest hurts like nothing I've ever experienced. Drowning was better than this - at least it couldn't last longer than about three minutes before I would have died. The places where I've been kicked sting, but they're really nothing compared to my ribs.

Briefly, I contemplate praying. My mother did it when things got awful and we always made it out alive and for the better. Pssht, God is what got me into this mess in the first place. I don't want to set dignity and pride aside just yet. Hell, I don't even know if God exists. Rationally, I sure as hell don't. I say that, though, and I remember my mother's peaceful face as she went through her rosary and I feel a tinge of guilt - like I'm betraying her by not believing or some nonsense.

I'd sigh if I could. My best guess is that I've been at this shit for at least four hours. Just laying here thinking. I'm not sure how long I was unconscious, so I don't know the total time since the pressing. What the hell could they be doing? I thought they'd have already had everything set up since they've been on their twisted crusade to find their messiah. They did say they'd already had their 'slaughter of the innocents', so they must have had something already in place. Unless kicking and tossing blocks on people amounted to determining who was the messiah and who wasn't. That wouldn't really surprise me at this point, although I know Hideo and the professor are smarter than that. They'd plan this shit out years in advance - as soon as Hideo started gathering followers.

I focus on trying to understand Hideo - as much as anyone can, really. He had some sort of epiphany - a vision or a chat with a hallucination. This really defined him, really made him change. He was probably a relatively normal guy before that. Josh never seemed wary of him, just felt inferior. That could have been the angle Hideo always played at, though, keeping the younger brother down as your lesser and your minion. Well, intuition says that he was fairly normal anyway. So this epiphany - what was it about? Did Satan come tell him that a messiah would be born and that was his chance at ruling the world? Didn't he already supposedly rule the Earth? What good would that do? Oh, yeah, Hideo said he'd kill God and rule Heaven as well. Okay, well that would have either energized or frightened a person. What does Hideo get out of helping the devil? He must have been promised something: eternal life, a high-ranking position in the new Heaven-Hell conglomerate, crazy supernatural powers, knowledge, something. Just go with a promise of some sort for now, self. 'Help me, receive this.' That could be one scenario. Maybe Hideo always leant a little toward the crazy darker side of life and helping the devil would be a good enough reward - just seeing him rise to power. He's totally driven by this moment of epiphany, regardless. From what I remember as a detective, ideal-driven killers are the worst to deal with. You never really can get into their heads completely - they're nigh on psychotic. They're on a mission and very rarely can fully explain what that is, or at least how it benefits them.

Okay, he said he'd had conversations with the devil's underlings. So this delusion/hallucination persisted, further driving him forward into his crusade. If they kept showing up, then he couldn't just pass it off as a dream or something. These minions kept telling him more and more about what was going to happen, like a prophecy. All he had to do was make it happen. Visionary serial killers rarely stage anything, so I'm not sure about the crime scenes we found. They had to be a message to us all, like a neon sign saying 'hell is coming'. Maybe they were the influence of the professor or Josh. I'd go with the professor, since Josh seemed more like the quiet hide-it-all-away kind of guy, like the bodies in the storage facility Birman found. I'm reminded suddenly of Farfarello, Schwartz' resident nutjob. He was always going on about God and doing what he did to offend God. Hideo's more functional in society than that, but they still have the same mentality - wholly believing in their cause. Hideo played nice with people to get what he wanted or, in his mind, needed - a vast sea of people from which to find the messiah. Farfarello just wanted to murder in order to piss God off. Somehow I think Hideo's going to be more unpredictable. You knew that where ever Schwartz went, mayhem followed. Hideo may have moments of lucidity, or at least did in the beginning. Now, though, he's just batshit.

God, this isn't getting me far. It's just filling in the time. Something to think about besides the pain. Hideo won't be my way out of here, anyway. The weaker-minded of the followers will be. He found a bunch of impressionable young people and filled their heads with this nonsense. Maybe if I test that 'reality' of theirs, they'll bend to MY will instead. I WILL get out of here, with or without your help, Ran.

Now, though, I'm just tired. Tired of the pain, tired of thinking, tired of worrying. It isn't long before I feel myself drift off. At least it's another way to kill the time.

* * *

I wake up hitting the floor. They've dumped me out of my kennel, although I'm not sure how they crept up on me like that. Maybe the injuries are taking more of a toll than I expected. Before I can regain any semblance of my bearings, I'm blindfolded and two muscle heft me up by my arms and carry me off somewhere. This doesn't sit well with me at all. I don't like not knowing what's going on. I kick around and thrash for all I'm worth, ignoring the pain of my ribs, fueled only by terror. I'm not even sure what I'm yelling, only that I am and that I'm certainly expressing my distaste for the situation.

I'm suddenly forced down onto my knees. I can't put up a proper fight since my legs are still bound at my ankles. Undeterred, I continue my rant.

"Hello, Messiah." Hideo's smooth voice calls. "Your calm exterior is finally shattered, I see."

I snort, ignoring my chest. "Fuck you, Hideo. Fuck you and all your devils and fuck your Satan!" My IQ or lack thereof is showing once more. I can't help it anymore. I can't see and that makes me panic. Panic makes everyone stupid. Unfortunately, I can't seem to calm myself down.

He laughs while I take a punch to the face. Fucker. "Messiah, your time will come soon enough. Let's not anger us and hasten it." He muses calmly. Well, everything sounds calm when compared to the chaos in my head. "If you're just going to blow off steam, we can fix that."

Before I can insult his vagueness, the muscle heft me up and toss me. Oh shit, it's fucking cold! Agh, I think I feel ice. At least I didn't cry out. It's not painful, per say, just startling and rather miserable. I don't particularly like being cold to begin with.

Something foreign is being said; Latin, if I had to guess. It sounds like being at the old-style Catholic mass. A few minutes, what seems like pages of Latin, several dozen cuss words and insults later, I start shivering. The muscle have held me down thus far, preventing me from worming my way out of whatever I'm in. Oh man, this sucks, but at least it's kind of numbing the pain or at least giving me something else to focus on. I start coughing despite myself and despite the pain that I can still feel when it happens.

"Messiah," Hideo's voice takes over after the Latin stops, "you've been found guilty of your crimes and shall be justly labeled and punished." He says grimly. There's no real satisfaction in his voice this time, just a statement of 'facts'.

The guilty verdict doesn't surprise me in the least and nor does the punishment part of the sentence, but labeled? I guess he means that everyone will know I'm the messiah, or some slop. I feel pressure on my arms, they're numb too, so slight pressure is all I can feel. I know I'm being hefted out of the ice pit and that's all that matters to me at the moment. I almost miss the sound of fire - that crackling noise that wood or coal makes. Before I can start guessing what's on fire and why, the muscle press me down onto my numb knees. I don't balance well, not being able to feel anything normally, so the muscle hold me up, pulling my shoulders forward.

I don't contain the scream when something hot and solid presses onto my back. I can hear my flesh searing and I can smell it burning. For reference, it's nothing like a rotisserie chicken or any meat I've ever smelled, just in case that ever comes up in a trivia game or something. I silence myself as soon as I'm able, the hot whatever-it-is still against my back. Arrrgh, the pain is excruciating, despite being numb like I thought I was. They yank the pain-maker away and I think I feel some flesh go with it. Oh shit, this something out of a nightmare if I ever dreamed of me being tortured instead of my loved ones. Fuck, the pain...

I'm still trying to convince my nerves that they're not on fire when the muscle pick me back up and I'm suddenly under the ice water, head and all. Just so you know, the pain from burning is never entirely counteracted by ice water. It just changes sensations. Now breathing is an issue. I was having issues already with that particular area of my life and this doesn't seem to make them any better. I release some air from my lungs; for some reason I've always felt it easier to hold my breath when I have none. I know that sounds insane, but it's true. Right after I start coughing under the ice water, I'm hefted up by my hair. Well, at least my head isn't under the water like the rest of me.

"And mercy was shown to the heavenly Messiah by the instruments of Lucifer, quelling the flames of hell." Hideo's voice informs me.

Well, I guess it's a kind of mercy. Sort of. "Real mercy would have been not doing it in the first place." My mouth says before my brain's filter can stop it. Oh well. They're gonna do what they're gonna do, regardless of what I say. Maybe if I piss them off, they'll just hurry up and kill me. I can't do shit with this blindfold on, anyway. It's not like I can get out of this easily now.

Predictably, I'm held underneath the ice water again. I could just breathe in... Right now, I could end it. Before I can really choose, the muscle haul me up and out of the ice water. I hate not being able to see. As the first fist strikes me in the stomach, I REALLY hate not being able to see and I hate having my arms and legs bound! Another hits my lower back, another crashes into my side, and another clips my cheek. "Motoki, please show the Messiah that we're really a warm, hugging bunch underneath it all." Hideo's sarcastic voice orders politely.

Motoki, please stay the fuck away from me. Large warm arms wrap around me from behind and squeeze. This normally wouldn't bother me much; it would have just pissed me off at being bear-hugged by an enemy, but my ribs are broken. It doesn't take much force for stuff to start popping in my chest. More ribs breaking, maybe. I can't catch my breath, even after Hideo allows Motoki to stop. I realize that I'm shallowly gasping and it feels like my chest is on fire and still being crushed. Two more blows strike my stomach and chest before I'm tossed back into the ice bath. Underwater, I can taste metal and cough weakly. They pull me up and out shortly afterward. Heaven forbid I catch a cold as their captive.

I hear someone sigh impressively. "Messiah," Hideo begins, "it pains us all to see you like this." I'm sure. I can totally hear them all crying at the sight of me. Bullshit. "The end has arrived. Free his limbs." He orders. If I were in any shape to move, much less run, this would have been my chance. I feel my arms swing forward and my legs turn slightly to one side. I struggle to stand on my own for the first time in what seems like forever. It's not entirely successful, but I manage to stand slumped over, my right arm slowly coming to wrap around my chest. Oh, this sucks. I was hoping that being untied would lessen the pain and not bring more, but my shoulders are so sore and stiff from being like that for so long. I'm slowly led over a few meters to my left, the muscle letting me stumble along on my own unless I start to overbalance. Then one grabs me and rights me quickly before prodding me to resume my walk.

"You will walk to your final resting place, Messiah, under your own strength and power." Hideo informs me. Well, at least that's some dignity they're affording me. I start to shuffle my way forward when my back stings. Those fuckers really want to make full use of the Jesus parallel. Undeterred, I grit my teeth and continue trying to walk forward while someone lashes me with a whip. Don't get me wrong, it fucking hurts, but everything hurts right now. More pain doesn't feel as bad as it should. The rest of the cultists continue jeering at me, as they have been since I was brought in this room, or where ever I am. I just keep walking slowly. One foot mostly in front of the other. Thanks to the blindfold, they can't see my eyes squeeze shut with every lash of the whip. I do struggle, however, to keep from grimacing otherwise and I don't succeed in not pausing in my trek with every lash. This wholly sucks. The end, he said. This is going to be it. Walking like an idiot to my own death.

About 30 lashes in, Hideo's voice calls out and orders me to stop walking. The crowd's noise lowers to a hum and I can hear the footfalls of someone walking toward me. As soon as I perceive them behind me, I strike backward with my elbow and manage to catch them in the stomach. As they instinctively crouch forward, I pop my fist back and connect with some piece of their face before the muscle knock me to the ground and kick me a few times for good measure. I hear someone spit, probably the person I hit. Good. Hope I knocked some teeth loose.

"Unexpected, but I shouldn't have expected less from one so strong in spirit." Hideo's somewhat surprised voice states. Ha! I managed to hit Hideo! Well that makes me feel just a little better about the whole situation. The muscle force me to kneel again. "Messiah, look upon your final destination." I feel his hands at the back of my head and my blindfold slides off. After my eyes adjust even to the dim light in the warehouse, I can't help but stare. At least thirty feet in height stands a metal cross, gleaming in what seems like lantern-light. One of the members must be a welder. Random pieces of straight metal have been attached at the back of the junction of the two pieces of the cross, all the pieces forming an almost star-like shape altogether. My stomach drops to my feet, but somehow all I can think is that it's almost beautiful.

* * *

Author's note: Well, please review. A little short, but I hope that it did manage to speed up and that everything made sense.

_Lizz_ - PM me and I'll send you some of the old works. I'm kind of embarrassed of them to put them on just yet. I ought to rework them before I do that.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Chosen (chapter 9)**_

Author: Shukujo Kurai

Warnings: shounen-ai, OOC, ...supernatural (for lack of better terms), violence in this chapter

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss. I do own Josh, Hideo, Yuri, Lanh, and all the dead people. ^_^;;;;

Author's Notes: 7 years later - still unfinished. Now I'm working on editing and rewriting bits to make everything flow better. I hope. Please comment/review. I'd really appreciate the help. This is currently un-Beta-ed. After these seven years, I've lost contact with my beta reader. If there are any volunteers, please let me know!

Thanks: There are so many of you now, it's hard to keep track! Special thanks go to my recent reviewers who really left me encouragements. I feel all warm and happy when I read them. Lol. Extra special thanks to RodiSquall, & Lizz.

* * *

Wow. So, at least my sense of aesthetics is pleased by what is supposed to constitute my final resting place, or whatever Hideo said. I'm not sure it's possible for me to pull my gaze from this giant metal cross. This is it. The end. Finale. Finis.

"Walk, Messiah", Hideo softly orders, as though it almost pains him to do this. Maybe Stockholm Syndrome is setting in, 'cause I'm sure, rationally, that Hideo is insane enough not to give a flying fuck about killing me. This is what he's been waiting for. This is what he's killed so many blameless young people for. I finally look toward my peripheral vision and spot two smaller, less masterfully constructed, crosses flanking the metal one. One to its left, one to its right. Man, the stereotypes are getting old. Squinting through the dim firelight - yeah, they have lanterns and wall sconces - I can tell surmise that these are made of wood.

I stagger to my feet, my gaze drifting back to the center cross. Ya know, being metal, I wonder briefly how they're going to hold me to that thing, but I decide that it's probably best that I don't know. However they're planning on doing that can't be pleasant.

Hideo's talking, but I can't manage to focus on his voice right now. Everything sounds like I'm underwater. Distantly, I remember sounds like this the night that Asuka and I were shot - the night I first died. Maybe this is what shock sounds like. Forcing some awareness into place, I can tell that I'm mindlessly obeying Hideo's order to move. The cross comes closer and closer. Ah, man, this can't be all my life. Sure, I've fallen in love, betrayed, been betrayed, committed the worst of sins...but I've never really felt that I've ever redeemed myself. I've never shown my mother what she's wanted to see. I never got to tell my teammates goodbye, or even thank them for everything they've done for me. I never got to really even give Ran a hint as to how I felt about him...

Before I really register it, I'm pushing through the crowd of onlookers. I don't know where I'm running to; I just know that it's not that cross. I'm not dying yet... I can't die yet. I bump into a partition and slide myself alongside it, running in the furthest direction possible from my supposed 'destiny'. This can't be it... It just can't be the end of everything.

I feel a set of hands and, I guess it's muscle memory or survival mode or something, I turn, grab their chin and top of their head and rotate quickly. I hear a crack and drop them, already turning to the nearest person as that one hits the floor. 'I can't die here..' That's all that's repeating in my head right now. I kick this cultist where it hurts and repeat the neck-snapping maneuver on him. Dropped. Side kick the one running at me. Elbow to the face of the one coming up on my right. They fall and I stomp on their necks as hard as I can in quick succession, just hoping to crush their windpipes. Dropped, or at least rendered useless. I don't feel the pain of my abused body; it's all about living right now. Nothing else matters. Quick open-palmed jab to the throat of the one rushing me from my front. Dropped. I'm grabbed from behind, but manage to judo-throw them to the floor in front of me. I stomp blindly here, hoping for nose or throat. Anything to disable them. Eventually, after incapacitating three more, I'm overwhelmed by bodies. I'm not sure how they're doing it, but I notice my vision darkening. I'm lashing out for all I'm worth, still aiming for kill/disabling zones. I feel my fingers digging into someone's face, gouging at their eyes. It's not long after, though, that I cease moving and my vision completely darkens.

* * *

Sometimes when you're regaining consciousness, the awareness of your mental self sets in first, sometimes you can even develop awareness of your environment before the awareness of your body sets in. That's the case and I'm really wishing that the last awareness never set in. If I thought I hurt before, I was just being a wuss. This is excruciating. I force my eyes open slowly. The lighting remains the same and I look down at the cultists gathered, listening to Hideo and Professor Lunatic speak. I take this time when they're distracted to evaluate myself. All my previous injuries, a headache ('cause this is, what, like the 5th time I've lost consciousness?), and pain all along the surface of my body. I manage to sluggishly turn my head, causing more pain. I feel liquid running down my chest. Huh. Odd.

I'm so wishing for an out-of-body experience right now, cause right now my body has apparently been held to this metal cross by lengths and lengths of fine wire. Blood is still flowing from most of the wounds that the wire has caused. Fuck. If I'm tied up here by my own fucking weapon... Some shitty assassin I am. I can guess what the liquid I felt earlier was. When I moved, wire must have dug further into the flesh of my throat - I effectively garroted myself. Shit, I wish I didn't weigh so much; not that I'm fat or anything, but the weight I do have forces the wire deeper into my flesh thanks to gravity.

Well. I sigh mentally, as doing so physically would just cut into my chest more. So much for escape. I didn't even get a chance to talk to any of the members without Hideo around - he was that clever, at least. Ungh. I've been forcing myself to think around the pain, but it's not working as well now.

"Youji..." I hear my name in almost a whisper, I can hear the pain in the voice. I figure that I'm going to die anyway, so I turn my head, allowing the wire to slice at my throat. Looking a bit downward, I can see that they've put a person on the wooden cross to my right. Not just any person. I'm surprised that they'd crucify one of their own.

"Josh?" I ask, with a little more vigor in my voice than he has. Upon further inspection - hey, looking at his situation is taking my mind off of my own - I see that they've nailed him to his cross through his wrists, I think.

I can see well enough in the dim lighting to see that he blinks and nods. "I'm sorry, Youji." He breathes out, speaking in English. "I didn't know about their plans. I just answered some of their questions. I told them that they were wrong to trust in the devil." He pants a little, his face paling further than it already was. "So I ended up here. I'm sorry you were caught in this bullshit." He coughs weakly. "I'm sorry I didn't do more to stop them."

I close my eyes for a second, summoning up some emotional strength. "It's okay. Not your fault." It's painful and liberating at the same time to say those words, absolving the brother of my captor of his transgressions. "Sorry you're nailed up here on my account." Maybe this shit wouldn't be happening if I weren't their Messiah. Maybe they'd still be looking for it and Weiß could move in and stop them before this...whatever this is.

He shakes his head. "They think it's for Satan. They want to merge Satan with his previous self, Lucifer." Well, I guess it's always good to have those gaps in your understanding filled in before you die.

"To take over heaven?" I supply and question. I want to fully understand why it is that I have to be strung up on a cross for these idiots.

Josh nods waveringly. His eyes won't stay open. "Heaven, Hell, and Earth...rule it all with him." His voice is softer and slower. I've seen enough deaths to know what's going to happen. Shit. I'm so tired.

I don't know anything else to say to Josh as he dies, so I force myself to turn my head and look at the other cross, ignoring the sensation of flowing liquid that results. On the left cross hangs the girl from the alleyway. She doesn't move; I can't even see her breathe. I write her off as already dead.

I turn my head back to look forward toward the cultists below me. Fucking crazy-ass bastards. If hatred alone could kill, I'd be a mass murderer.

Hideo turns and smiles. "Messiah!" He exclaims happily. I guess he's pleased that I woke up and didn't die peacefully in my sleep. He wants some more fun. "I'm glad you're awake!" Yeah. I bet you are, you psycho dickwad. A cultist hands him a long pole, which I'm sure won't prove to be pleasant for me. "As I'm sure you've seen, your heretic friends have joined you." With the pole-thing, he gestures toward Josh and the woman.

So much pain. So much. I try to let hatred win out, to let it be the only thing I feel. "Self-righteous religious retard." I grumble, not caring to censor myself. Why bother?

He sneers. "You've been hanging for almost an hour. Let's see how well your body's taking it." He moves toward me with the pole, which I can now see is some sort of spear-type weapon. Fantastic. Just what my day was missing.

The metal of the spear-thing's tip punctures my left side with little difficulty. I try to look downward, but I don't feel quite like decapitating myself. I'm not going to take the easy way out of this.

Apparently whatever happened was not the right result. "Let's speed this along." I raise an eyebrow. Wouldn't you want to torture your enemies longer? I grimace as the spear tip jabs into various other parts of my abdomen and legs. At least these don't feel as deep as the first one.

I manage to fidget enough to look down at the ground, only to see a few of the members playing in my blood like it's from a sprinkler on a hot summer afternoon. Fucking freaks. Something tells me that I should be a little more bothered by all of this. Civilians would be panicking right now.

Hideo smiles broadly and I do my best Abyssinian death glare at him. "I knew you were the Messiah - you're so strong, so full of stamina." Idiot. That comes from years of being an assassin. "You managed to kill seven of His followers after days of torture." I'm not sure which thought gets through to me more. I'm smugly satisfied that I managed to kill that many while injured, but I'm disgusted to know that it's been days. How many days? Two? Three? Did Weiß completely give up when they first noticed that I was missing?

I want to be mad at my teammates, but I just can't. My mind is focused on the here and now, namely being sliced to bits on a cross. If I manage to live and someone complains about what a shitty day they had at work, I swear I'll kill them on principle. Che. Who am I kidding? How the fuck am I supposed to get out of this? Summon up my messiah powers and miracle myself outta this mess? Damnit, I hate religion now.

I'm stabbed a couple more times while I muse and try to figure a way out of this. At this rate, I'll have less than a pint of blood in my body by the time I figure a way out. Hazily, I notice that Hideo's talking to his crowd, but everything's too fuzzy and distant for me to make out the words. My vision is starting to do that after-image thing and swimming. Well, so much for messiah powers.

"Master!" Hideo and the Professor's voices cry out loud enough to break through the fog in my head. I look at where they're looking.

Like something out of a movie, Ran's calmly walking toward us, the crowd parting from his path. His violet gaze grabs my own. Ran. You came. His coat billows around him as he walks, but I don't see his katana out. What the fuck?

Hideo and the Professor are more animated than I've ever seen them. "Master, we've almost completed the sacrifice for your resurrection ritual!" They happily inform him, despite the fact that he's still looking at me. "The messiah will die so that you can be freed from your bonds and rise up!" I hope Ran thinks that this is a bunch of nonsense too. The crowd kneels, some gazing up at him adoringly. Man, they're one fucked up bunch.

Maybe it's just my vision, but I think Ran is shaking. Not like seizure shaking, but more like trembling. Ran's too strong of a person to tremble though. He breaks his gaze from mine to turn to Hideo. I can hear his deep voice over the haze, which has lessened probably due to my own excitement at the possibility of rescue, although there's not much left to rescue. "He. Is. Mine." The katana is unsheathed across Hideo's throat, the force of it cutting through his flesh like air. Immediately, he turns to the Professor and slices upward across his chest before arcing back to slice down the other diagonal.

Darts fly into the mass of people as they try to flee from Ran's wrath. Omi. I hear screams and as I slowly turn my jiggly vision, I see Ken ripping through cultists. They all came. They all came for me. It's hard to breathe and I think I'm sort of gasping for air now. You better kill every last one of these fuckers, Weiß.

After dispatching a few more of them, Ran turns my way. I try to focus on him, but my vision is just too wiggly. He jogs over to my left, beyond my sight. Maybe one was hiding. I cough shallowly. Freedom is so close.

Ken isn't moving as fast, so I'm guessing that they've gotten pretty much all of them at this point. They were mostly unarmed, so it shouldn't have been excessively difficult. At least they'll all be dead. Wish I could have killed more of them.

Fuzzily, Ran's face comes into view. I get the feeling that I half-blacked out there. "Ran..." I wheeze embarrassingly before coughing heavily. I nearly choke on what I presume to be phlegm and end up spitting more than I intended forward. It's not phlegm that I just splattered Ran with, it's blood. Fan-fucking-tastic. I force myself to focus on the man in front of me, dimly wondering how he's up here 20-some feet in the air. "Ran, you came." I whisper.

He turns toward my face from where I guess he was checking out the wires. "Of course I did. Just hold on." His voice sounds funny. My delirious mind labels it as worry. "Omi!" He yells, foregoing codenames. "Omi, come here!" My vision is going dim and then back to fuzzy and then back to dim again.

"Aya, is he...?" I hear Omi's frightened voice as from below me.

Ran turns his head downward. "Barely. Help me get him loose. Hurry." His attention is back to me and figuring out how best to free me from this cross.

I wouldn't be Kudou Youji if I didn't try to lighten the mood. "Hey Ran...?" I ask, waiting for him to turn to my face, which he does. I don't like the look of sad pity he's giving me. "I didn't have to carry this one." I tap my head back against the metal cross and try to smile. His eyebrows furrow slightly and I start coughing heavily. Shit. Did I contract tuberculosis or something? Blood splatters Ran's face. Oops. I struggle to stop coughing as he turns back to his task. "Sorry." I whisper. I really didn't mean to hack blood up on him. "Sorry...for..." man, it's harder and harder to talk and see. "for...everything."

He doesn't look at me, at least not that I can tell. My vision is now constantly dimmed and all swimmy. "Then you'll just have to live and make it up to me later." His voice is surprisingly gentle, despite the speed at which he spoke. I struggle to stay alert - I don't want to wake up on this cross and this have been a dream. My left arm sags down, free from the wires. The head rush I get blacks me out and I give in to the fatigue. I just want to sleep now that I'm safe. Ran's here, so I'm safe.

* * *

AN: Please review, it really does help me. This chapter is short, but I wanted it out of the way. I found that I couldn't describe things as well as I'd have liked to. Next chapters will focus on recovery and character development.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Chosen (chapter 10)**_

Author: Shukujo Kurai

Warnings: shounen-ai, OOC, ...supernatural (for lack of better terms), violence in this chapter

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss. I do own Josh, Hideo, Yuri, Lanh, and all the dead people. ^_^;;;;

Author's Notes: Ten chapters! Whoo! This chapter will be OOC for the most part. Also, I have no idea what it's like to be in a coma or anything similar, so I'm winging this.

Thanks: There are so many of you now, it's hard to keep track! Special thanks go to my recent reviewers who really left me encouragements. I feel all warm and happy when I read them. Lol. Extra special thanks to RodiSquall, & Lizz.

* * *

Death: it's not fun, but not entirely horrible either. Mostly just a sea of blackness. I don't feel any pain and I don't feel any worry for the first time since I was assigned the cultist case.

Of course, I don't remember anyone mentioning hearing disembodied voices during death, either, so SOMEthing's not quite right.

"You need to eat something." I can't make out the owner of the voice. Everything's underwater like it was during my pre-deaths. I hope they can see that I can't eat anything without being conscious.

"I'm fine." It's brief and deep-voiced. Oh, so they weren't talking to me. Good, 'cause I was gonna question their intelligence if they were telling a dead guy to eat.

A pause. "You've been here for days..." It's higher-pitched and plaintive, soft and gentle, pleading with the other person.

"It's alright." Monotone person is monotonous. A sudden thought strikes me and I feel what might be fear (which I'm certain dead people oughtn't feel): what if I have to spend eternity listening to this crap? Oh shit, I'm in hell. Fuck. I always knew I'd end up here, being an assassin and all, but I didn't really imagine hell being...boring.

"What are you doing?" It's the deep voice, oddly and awkwardly initiating conversation. Well, I might as well turn this into some sort of radio drama.

"Staying with you." The higher-pitched voice seems proud of itself. I can imagine them smiling.

I hear the other person sigh and it's silent. Man, this is going to be one boring eternity.

* * *

If I had a body, I'd be banging my head against the nearest surface repeatedly. I've never done well with boredom and this situation takes the goddamn cake. I'm stuck in what I presume to be limbo, listening to the two most boring people on the planet. It feels like it's been hours since I noticed the voices. Shit, when I put it that way, I sound insane. Luckily I'm dead, so no one can judge me on that.

"I'm thirsty." The higher-pitched voice says softly. "Are you?" Maybe they're just as bored as I am.

The other voice doesn't say anything for a moment. "Yeah. Here." My brow would be furrowing if I had one. So disembodied voices have actions, at least that's what I guess is going on. I assume that Deep Voice is handing Girly Voice something, presumably money.

"What do you want?" Oh God, this is torture. This is why I'm sure that, if there is a God, he does NOT listen in on people's lives. He would bore himself to death.

"Coffee sounds great." Wow, almost a whole sentence without much prompting. Afterlife could get interesting if Deep Voice adds more words to sentences. Pardon my sarcasm.

Aaaand cue silence. Fuck. I start singing to myself 'cause there's just nothing else to do here in limbo.

"This is deja vu." Holy shit, Deep Voice talks to himself. Monologue, go! "I spent years doing this very thing, well, without the company."

I presume he's talking about Girly Voice. You don't do company well, Deep Voice. At least as time has progressed, the underwater quality of their voices has lessened and allowed me to make out their words much more clearly. It'd be an even MORE boring eternity if all I could hear was mumbling. One eye would twitch at that, if I had one.

"It's been five days since we found you." My attention focuses on him now; he HAS to be talking to me. "You died, you know." Well, yeah. I thought I was still dead, actually. So I'm alive? That kinda sucks. "Your heart stopped on the way to the hospital." That's generally how people die, Deep Voice. Just sayin'. "I thought we had found you too late." The voice has grown a little softer. Huh. So if Deep Voice here was one of the people that found me, that must mean it's one of Weiß. That at least makes not-so-life more interesting.

Somewhere down and to the right of what I presume to be my consciousness (yes, I realize how insane that sounds) I feel a gentle pressure. Hm.

"They're all dead, you know." I assume he means the cultists. "You'd killed seven of them during your captivity, at least." I think I recall Hideo mentioning that. "Dr. Ikkudo placed the time of death approximately two hours before we arrived." A pause. I'm not entirely reassured since apparently we're STILL working with that guy. "With your injuries, we were all surprised that you'd fought against so many and managed to kill seven of them." Well, yes, I'm not entirely incompetent. Okay, well, I probably am, but there's much to be said for adrenaline and survival mode. The weird pressure has turned into a weird moving pressure, concentrated in the same area. I know it sounds bizarre, so I try forcing myself to become more aware.

Deep Voice clears his throat a bit. Since it's a deep voice, that excludes Omi, who might be Girly Voice (sorry, kid, but it's true). The weird moving pressure feels like being petted and I know how weird that must sound. I think Deep Voice, aka Ken or Ran, is rubbing my hand or what I presume is my hand. "I killed Hideo and Matsuzaki-sensei. You can rest peacefully now."

...Holy shit, it's Ran. I remember him killing those two with his katana after saying something to them. Ran is sitting by what I presume is my bedside and is petting what I'm guessing is my hand. Also, crazy-hair-professor-man has a name now.

"You must have heard me." Huh? How would you know, Ran? "The heart monitor showed an increase in your heart rate just now." Trust Ran to assume that I'm confused. At least this time it was true. A brushing sensation ghosts by my consciousness, which I now guess is my head. This is a long slow game of guess-where-the-body-parts-are. "To catch you up to speed, the other person here is Aya-chan. She flew in from England when I called and told her that you were missing." Well that's oddly endearing. I'm not sure whether she came in to support her brother, wait for me, or both, but it doesn't really matter. I'm touched by her presence regardless. "Ken and Omi are running the shop with Aya-chan filling in when Omi has class." I chuckle here in not-quite-limbo. Trust Ran to make sure the shop stays open even when someone's dying.

"Oniichan." That's Aya-chan's voice then. "Here you go."

"Arigatou, Aya-chan." I guess he takes the coffee, but his hand never leaves what I presume is mine. Also, why is Ran drinking coffee? I thought he preferred tea.

"Hmm. Youji-kun looks happier." I can hear the smile in her voice. How does an unconscious person look happier though?

"I think he heard me talking to him." I hear a noisy sip, which I presume is Ran cooling coffee as he drinks it. I've heard him do that with tea. And with that realization, my status as 'stalker' is set. Who listens to how people drink? Creepers, that's who.

"That's great!" I smile inwardly. Her happiness was always contagious. "Have the doctors said how long it might take him to fully wake up?"

The grip on my hand tightens slightly. "They say that it varies with the person. They're guessing at least a week, if he fully regains consciousness at all." I hear the heaviness in his voice. "His injuries were so extensive, they estimate that it was a tremendous shock to his system." Well that doesn't sound good at all.

After a minute or two, Aya-chan's voice grows more somber. "He required one of the largest blood transfusions possible and there was extensive internal damage, especially to his lungs." I'm guessing she's reading my chart. I hear her sigh. "They managed to restore the collapsed lung and reset the rib that pierced it." How one resets a rib, I do not know. I'm guessing it involves metal screws or something. "He did suffer six fractured ribs though, but their biggest concern is the chance of brain damage from the concussions he seemed to have sustained and the time before he was resuscitated." I don't think I've ever heard Aya-chan sound so clinical. Ah, nevermind, I can hear her sniffling. Brain damage? Let's hope not. I don't need to be MORE retarded.

"He'll be alright, Aya-chan." Ran sounds oddly sure. "He'll wake up if only to make sure that they're all dead." I'm not sure if he's being serious or trying to joke. Ran never jokes or even really talks about our work with his sister, so I'm at a loss. Another movement near my head.

"Oniichan?" A small pause. "What are you going to do when he wakes up?" I can tell she's trying to smile and be more positive.

The pause here is apparently Ran thinking. "Yell at him for getting captured." That figures. Typical Abyssinian. "Apologize for not being there with him, for not making us all wear tracking devices, for not protecting him." His voice grows softer and softer.

There's an awkward silence, which I spend grappling with the knowledge that Ran wants to apologize for things beyond his control. Apologize to ME. "Niichan, you all spent three days awake tracking him down, researching and preparing for rescue. You never gave up. He'll forgive you, if he even blames you for anything."

She's right, Ran. I don't blame you or Weiß, I blame those crazy fucking cultists. I know it seemed to take forever to get rescued, but now I'm sure that you did what you could with what you knew. You were essentially in the dark about most of the case anyway, which is my own fault. I feel badly for the times I complained about not being rescued soon enough. A little bit of me blames Kritiker though. I can't help that one.

"Yeah." Is all he replies. I can tell he's just trying to placate her.

She sighs. "You won't forgive yourself though, will you?" The sadness radiates from her voice. She knows him very very well.

I'm not sure what he replies, but the siblings grow silent.

* * *

Well, apparently you can fall asleep here in LimboLand, because I'm just waking up. Not having a body, I'm not sure why that can happen, but apparently it does. This time it doesn't take as long for me to reduce the underwater-y quality of my hearing, which I hope is a positive sign.

Five days, huh? Five days of unconsciousness. I remember Aya-chan reading my chart and mentioning all the lung drama that went on. Fantastic. Well, I guess this'll give everyone a damned good excuse to get me to stop smoking. To be honest, I did go three days without even thinking about a cigarette, so it probably wouldn't be a bad thing and I DID resolve to do that if I lived through my little trip into CultTown.

"Aya-kun, you really ought to head to the Koneko and get some rest. Or at least a shower." It's Omi's voice, my hearing is clear enough now to make that out without much effort. Hm. So fastidious A-Ran hasn't bathed in five days? Sounds pretty gross, Ran-chan. Hee hee. I like that rhyming nickname.

"I haven't done anything strenuous. I don't need a shower yet." He's using his 'matter-of-fact' tone.

A pause. I can almost perceive the tension. "Aya-kun, you're still covered in blood." What? Inside my head here, I'm laughing my ass off at this mental picture. "You're starting to creep the nurses out and they've even asked Manx if you need a psychological evaluation." Ho, ho! Even funnier!

Ran just grunts. "I'll bathe when they let me use a shower here." Matter-of-fact tone is matter-of-fact. I don't think he's going to budge on this one, Chibi.

"Aya-kun, it's six-day-old blood!" Omi whines in outrage. Whining won't help fight the Ran-beast, kiddo, trust me. "What if they had hepatitis or something?"

"Then it's six days too late to worry about preventing infection." Oh, Ran, so realistic. Still, it's gross. Go shower. I'm obviously not going anywhere.

I hear Omi grumble. "Did you ever consider that you're embarrassing or even frightening Aya-chan?" Ouch, low blow, Chibi. This is not a battle I would have chosen with Ran, personally.

Silence followed by an honest-to-God low growl. "When you make them let me use a shower here, I'll shower, Tsukiyono." Oooh, surnames for you, Omi. You succeeded in pissing him off. Never guilt trip Ran, especially with his sister as the bait.

"Deal." I hear Omi happily chirp and the door close. At least he had sense enough to flee the scene.

I hear Ran grumble. "I don't know," he starts, deciding what to say, I guess, "I'm just…I'm almost afraid to leave." A pause. Ran probably would not be confessing this if he knew I could hear him. "Last time I left, you were captured and died." His voice was barely a whisper, but I heard him.

Ran, seriously, I'm in a hospital. I'm sure there are cameras and security and Omi's running around somewhere. I don't think anything horrible will happen in the twenty minutes it would take you to scrub all that old blood off.

"Oniichan!" I hear Aya-chan's lighter, happier voice chime. "I brought you coffee!" She seems proud – I wonder if she made it herself.

I feel some of the tension in the room lessen. "Arigatou, Aya-chan."

Aya-chan babbles about how the day has gone and the shop and her make-shift-schooling. I presume Ran is sipping his coffee and just listening to this tsunami of information. Maybe someone gave her sugar, cause she's bubblier than usual.

Eventually, Ran interrupts, which is surprising. "Aya-chan?"

Her voice stops, derailed from her train of thought. "Hm?"

He hesitates a second before asking. "Would you mind staying with Youji while I take a shower? Omi's looking for one the staff will let me use." He seems almost embarrassed.

"No problem!" Something rustles. "I brought you some clothes for whenever you needed them." She seems proud, probably in cahoots with Omi on the showering issue.

Ran's sigh indicates that he is presuming the same thing. Ha. Sorry, Ran. She's your sister.

For a while, it's silent. I'm guessing Aya-chan is either staring at me or studiously looking anywhere else.

"Youji-kun?" Her voice breaks through. Hon, I can't answer. "I'm worried about Ran-niichan." Her voice is sad and soft. I know the feeling, kiddo; Ran's stoicism tends to worry everyone. "I'm afraid he'll run away when you wake up."

Huh? Run away? Literally or metaphorically? More than likely the latter; Ran's a master of avoiding emotions and situations provoking them. He's probably just sitting with me to alleviate some weird sense of guilt.

"I took a leave of absence just in case I didn't make it back before next semester. They count foster siblings as first degree relatives at my school, so don't worry about my missing classes."

Aww. She considers me a foster-brother? Either that or she had to make that up in order to visit Ran, since he's technically not the one in the hospital.

"You guys are all the family I have." Her voice is soft, but not as sorrowful as I would have imagined. "Omi-kun and Ken-kun are like brothers to me." Ooookay. Nice sentiment and all, and I know this is selfish, but where does that leave me? The creepy uncle? "I know Ran-niichan is my real brother, but he usually feels like a parent. He was like that even before the accident." I know what she's referring to and I can completely see Ran as a father-figure in her case. "But you're not entirely like a sibling. You're fun to be around and you joke a lot with me, but you're Niichan's age and you're more protective than you let on. You're usually gentler than Niichan, so you're kind of like a mother!"

I'm not sure I'm proud of that, Aya-chan. I always saw Omi as more motherly than I am, just so you know. It's kind of emasculating to say the least.

"It works well though." She muses, still more cheerful than when she started this one-sided-conversation. "The way you and Niichan interact is very familiar and parent-ly."

Huh? Familiar? Parent-ly? Okay, the last one isn't even a word, but I assume she means 'like parents interact'. Aya-chan, we barely interact around you…

"He talks about you a lot in our letters." I'm not sure what she's trying to do here. It's succeeding in making me paranoid, whatever her true intent. "Oh! He asked me to help him refresh his English! I got the hint that it had something to do with you."

Me? Not so much as creepy cultists talking about us. I'd learn the language again if that were the case, even if they're all dead now. Just in case, you know. Zombies wouldn't be too surprising, given the creeps Kritiker sends us after.

"He said you speak it fluently." She notes offhandedly. "I can see that, although I think Ken-kun and Omi-kun would be surprised." She half-giggles. Yeah, yeah. I'm supposed to be the airhead of the group. At least YOU see through it, Aya-chan.

"Hey, Youji-kun?" I already told you, kid, I can't answer. "Can you promise me something?"

I sigh mentally. Sure. Why not?

"Could you take care of Niichan while I'm away?" Huh? Take care of Ran? "I didn't have the guts to ask you before I left last time, I'm sorry." Uh, no apologies needed? "You're the closest person to him and I think he'd be more open with you."

A month ago I would have laughed if anyone had said that. Now, though, I immediately recall that night-afternoon-whatever in my room talking about nightmares in our almost-pajamas. I'd give anything for that level of openness with him all the time. I'm pathetic, I know.

"Maybe I don't have to go though, at least for a while." Her voice got softer and quite a bit sadder. "Maybe we can talk Niichan in to letting me study in Japan for a few more years. I know I begged him to let me go to England, but I miss you guys and I worry so much."

Actually, Ran agreed with you going to England in a way. You were further away from Kritiker and all their enemies. Don't get me wrong, it still took some convincing from myself and Omi that he could still monitor you there. Ken, however, jumped on Ran's if-I-can't-see-you-then-you-might-be-dead bandwagon.

"He's probably coming back soon, so I should probably talk about something that he wouldn't get upset over." Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Doubt he'd like walking in on your little babysitting request. "What should I get us for dinner?"

Really? That's your conversation shift? I chuckle mentally. I don't know if your tastes have changed since you've been away, but Ran likes that weird seaweed salad and jasmine tea. Go easy on the rice wine/vinegar stuff though, he doesn't seem to like that too much. Not that you can hear me. …Man, that bit of knowledge ups my creepy-stalker status. Sigh.

She sounds deep in thought over this. I can't help another mental chuckle. "No convenience store food, for sure." Nope, that and cafeteria food is probably all he's eaten since I got here. "He won't leave to eat at a restaurant…" It's amusing that I can really hear her thinking. "…but some places offer take-away!" Haha! Her revelations are adorable. She sounds so proud when she comes up with them. "Niichan used to like traditional food and there's a little shop nearby. Do you think he'd like that?" Sure, kiddo. I'm sure he'll like whatever you bring him, to be honest, just because it came from you. He wears that orange sweater you gave him to death despite the fact that it clashes so horribly with his hair.

"Arigatou, Aya-chan." Ran's voice suddenly states. All squeaky clean, Ran-chan? If you had gone six days without a shower after a mission, well, I'm glad comatose people can't smell stuff. Just saying.

"No problem, Niichan!" Her voice beams, cheerful like sunshine. "Youji-kun's safe and sound with me!" She seems proud again, but it could be sarcasm. "There's no change though…" Her voice saddens considerably. Hon, it's been only what, twenty minutes? Don't expect miracles here. "Would you like dinner?" You can hear the forced cheerfulness in that one. I would almost wince if I had a body.

"Aa. That sounds good." Man of a few words, there, Ran.

"Okay!" This time the cheerfulness seems more genuine. She likes being useful. "I'll be back in no time!" The door shuts before Ran can get 'be careful' completely out and he sighs softly.

"She didn't bother you too much, did she?" Really, Ran? She's not a bother when I'm awake. How's she going to bother me while I'm unconscious? "She can be a little…over-zealous sometimes." That's a nice way to say overbearing, I think. "I asked her to bring a book for me so I could read to you." He states as I hear rustling. I hear a definitive sigh, almost a groan actually. "She brought Harry Potter…In English." Hahahahahaha! That's hysterical, Ran! She probably bought that in England for herself. "She probably brought it so I could practice for you, since it's a children's book." I bet that's vaguely insulting and yet endearing at the same time. "I used to know English a lot better. I've been practicing with her since she's been here though, so it's gotten better than you remember." It's cute that you can't stand to be mediocre at something, Ran. At least I'll always have sketching and painting.

With another sigh, he begins to read about an eleven-year-old boy with weird powers. I'm SO tuning most of this out…

* * *

Ugh, dreaming here in the land of the unconscious might be better if all the stimulation I had to go off of weren't stories about pre-pubescent wizards. Ran's English isn't so bad, really. I'll let him know when I wake up and I'll also ban all stories about magic. I think he's read through at least three-quarters of the first book, sipping his coffee and tea when his throat gets too dry. Aya-chan returned and they ate for a few minutes before he resumed reading. I don't know if she stayed for part of that or not. I fell asleep somewhere between their salad and their sushi.

Anyway, the dream. So in horribly comedic fashion, Omi starred at the student at the magic school (a generic student, not one from the book). Ken was the flying instructor, guess that comes from the sports aspect. Ran was the grouchy professor, not surprisingly. I'm pretty sure Manx and Birman were in there somewhere too, but I can't remember. I just remember Omi running around a castle casting spells, Ken shouting at kids on brooms, and Ran glaring at incompetent students while yelling at them to 'study or get out'. Yeah. I hope I wake up soon.

Ran doesn't really talk much outside of the book anymore, which is disappointing to say the least. He'll update me on the goings-on of my case, Kritiker, and the shop before beginning the reading ritual. Heaven only knows what book we're on now or how long it's been. I've completely lost track of time and am only halfway interested in this book series. It's hard to be completely interested when you keep slipping in and out of partial consciousness. When I listen, I don't really listen for content much; I just enjoy Ran's voice. It's familiar and soothing. I guess that's what the doctors mean when they say to talk to comatose people.

A new voice suddenly interrupts Ran's reading. "How's he doing?" Oooo! I know that voice! That's Birman's voice! Sorry, it's just exciting to hear new things, as much as I love hearing Ran talk/read.

"He's stable." I hear Ran shift and I can somehow perceive that he scooted away from my bed. "He's still on the ventilator, but his vitals no longer decrease like they had been doing." Honestly, I'm surprised he told her that much. Maybe he's just happy to not be talking about wizards.

I hear Birman sigh softly. That seems to happen a lot in this room. "Well, it's an improvement. How do you think he'll do?" It's the same tone she uses when she asks me questions about Ran - that curious-forceful-caring tone.

Ran doesn't say anything for a few seconds, which is not exactly encouraging. "It's been 11 days since we rescued him. He shouldn't be unconscious much longer." What, are comas on a timer? "Kudou can't stand to miss out on too much gossip." It's insulting and endearing at the same time, but somehow I know he's just teasing in his own way.

Birman gives a groan, but it sounds playful. "I think you're right though." Thanks, Birman. I'd sigh if I could. "Youji will wake up just to make sure those bastards are dead." Oh. Well, that's more positive, at least. A longer pause. "Are you going to tell him when he wakes up?" Huh? Tell me what?

"No." It's an immediate response, so I'm instantly curious. Tell me what? "He doesn't need to know." I don't need to know what? Now I'm curious, dammit.

"Fujimiya," her tone isn't promising, "after all this, I thought you might reconsider that." Reconsider what? Argh! "He almost died, for God's sake." Shoosh with the God stuff, Birman. Religion me no likey right now.

The atmosphere shifts. Don't ask how I know, I just do. "It's none of Kritiker's business." Mm, matter-of-fact tone time.

"Perhaps not, but it's MY business." Huh? What? Quit being vague! "I care about the both of you, outside of our functions in Kritiker." …Huh? That didn't clarify much.

"You'll have to reassign me if something happens and I will NOT allow that." Ran's tone is escalating to the danger zone. They're arguing too fast for me to break this down as we go.

She sighs. "Fujimiya, I have no interest in separating Weiß and I certainly have no interest in separating the two of you." We can't be back on the Ran-hates-me topic. He wouldn't be here if he hated me, right?

"What, you're going to somehow keep this all to yourself?" I can tell he's standing from how the direction of his voice changed. What's 'this'? The fact that you're here with me? I think Kritiker can tell that since we're in their hospital.

"Yes!" She shouts as though he finally realized something a two-year-old already knew. She's obviously exasperated with the whole situation, whatever it is.

I can tell by his breathing that Ran's trying to calm down. He does that when trying to be civil in the shop, at least. "I'll think about it." He finally relents after a few minutes of awkward silence.

"Thank you." She breaths out like a sigh of relief. "I really don't think you'll be disappointed." A few high heel clicks. "Wake up soon, Youji." A feel a hand patting what I presume to be my own left hand and then the high heel clicks grow softer and a door shuts.

I hear Ran breathe in relief as well. "That woman is exhausting with her meddling." As predicted, I never get to hear what exactly is going on, he just returns to the book. Figures. I better wake up soon…

* * *

A/N: Well, it took longer than I intended, but here it is. It's not a whole lot and very…well, not very interesting. It's just a bit of character development. I'm already starting the next chapter, so hopefully it won't be very long this time. I hope. Sorry for the random hopefully comedic inserts. The last few chapters have been somewhat gloomy, but Ran reading young adult literature was the best I could come up with. ^.^; At least it wasn't something like Twilight. I can't see Ran making it through the first chapter of that.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Chosen (chapter 11)**_

Author: Shukujo Kurai

Warnings: shounen-ai, OOC, mentions of violence

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss. I do own Josh, Hideo, Yuri, Lanh, and all the dead people. ^_^;;;;

Author's Notes: This chapter will also be OOC for the most part. I still have no idea what it's like to be in a coma or anything similar, so I'm winging this. We're moving on to more character development, but (as always) I'll try my best to keep the dark humor in it.

Thanks: There are so many of you now, it's hard to keep track! Special thanks go to my recent reviewers who really left me encouragements. I feel all warm and happy when I read them. Lol. Extra special thanks to RodiSquall, blackorcid, & Lizz.

* * *

Wizard!Omi dreams are getting kind of old at this point, just so you know. Ran just keeps reading - I'm guessing he's trying to pretend that these are not books for 'young adults' to keep some semblance of dignity. We're up to some part about a tournament, which somehow reminds me of the human chess games we had to stop early on in our careers. By the way, why can't we have some mentor like guy with the crazy eyes? He sounds hilarious! I think even Ran likes him because lately he's started changing his voice ever so slightly for each character, at least when Aya-chan isn't here. She's the only one he'll read around; he snaps the book shut as soon as someone else walks in. I'm visualizing him hiding it wherever possible to keep up that macho image. Like I said, I have to keep turning this into a radio drama to keep from being too bored. My imagination still works despite my age, I guess.

He pauses for a few seconds, which is unusual to say the least. "I hope this isn't too boring for you." Really? For all you know, you're reading to a corpse so what difference does it make? "These names are getting…cumbersome."

I imagine he's glaring at the book. For someone who claimed not to speak English, he's done very well. He's only butchered one person's name so far, calling a kid 'See-muss' instead of 'Shay-mus', at least I'm guessing that's what it's supposed to be since I can't see the damn word. Irish and all or whatever. My mother had Gaelic heritage somewhere along the line, although her name was pretty normal.

"Who names their daughter 'Luna' anyway?" Heehee. He sounds bitter, which is somehow hilarious to me. "There's a lot of…the term for rhyming consonants…alliteration?" Yeah Ran, good job, actually. I think Omi studies English in school and couldn't have told you what that was. "Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Pansy Parkinson…" There are more, I'm sure, given how he's bringing this issue up. "Do Europeans actually do that with their names?" I'm assuming that's a joking question since Ran's not that ignorant. He sighs. "Two weeks today, Youji. The doctors are starting to hint at negative outcomes…"

Oh, fantastic. I found out a few days back that I'm apparently on life support (you can always count on Manx to be blunt). To be honest, I didn't expect Kritiker to go through that kind of expense and effort for an expendable assassin. Believe me, if I could figure out how to just snap out of this, I would in a heartbeat, assuming my heart's not being beaten for me right now as well. Sigh. I don't like this anymore than you do, Ran.

"I'm going to hold them off as long as I can and bargain however possible." Bargain? Like you did with Aya-chan? I hope he doesn't do that… Partially because I care about his life on those extra solo missions like he did for Aya-chan and partially because I already feel hugely indebted to him, you know, for saving my ass and sitting here for two goddamn weeks.

"Well, just in case you hear me and it's depressing to you, we'll go back to mermaids…"

Oh yay. Mermaids: just what Limbo needed. Please don't let my dreams have mermaids in them…especially if one of Weiß is a mermaid…

* * *

"Niichan! Is he okay?" Aya-chan's tearful voice breaks into my (rather painful) partial-consciousness. I hear lots of beeping in the background, which probably isn't good given her crying.

"Yes." Ran's voice even sounds shaken.

"Your friend went into cardiac arrest, but thanks to your brother and the monitors, we resuscitated him quickly." I'm guessing that's my doctor. Mm, joy. Guess my heartbeat wasn't fake after all. "I'm ordering several labs to determine exactly why since he's on the appropriate IV electrolytes." Whatever that means. Come on, heart, now is not the time to get lazy on me.

"How soon will you know?" Ah, reliable Ran, ever inquisitive and to the point.

"I'm ordering them stat and all of them can be ran in-house, so I'll have them back within the day." I hear clicking, like Omi on his laptop. "I will have to report this to your liaison." I assume that means Manx and/or Birman.

Footsteps fade, so I assume this ordeal is over for now. Well, that was fun. I've died twice now. Well, three times throughout my life. Twice this go-round.

Aya-chan's still crying, which bothers me just on principle. "It's alright now." Ran's soft tone is trying to be reassuring.

A sniffle. "You're not going to let them take him off life support, are you?"

"Of course not." It's an immediate and somewhat forceful answer. "I'll fight whomever I need to in order to prevent that."

I feel pressure on what I guess is my chest. "You can't die, Youji-kun, you can't!" Aya-chan must be crying on me. Argh, this is miserable. I want to spare her all of this; she doesn't need more trauma in her life. "You have to keep your promise!" More sobs. For the hell of it, I try forcing myself to feel everything possible, like trying to reconnect with my body. It's mostly just painful.

"What promise?" Ran's trying to distract her, I guess, or he's just curious. "He hears you, you know." Huh? I try forcing that reconnection more since something must be working.

"How can you tell?" Her sniffle-y voice replies.

"The EEG changed." That's a brain thing, right? I've seen a bunch of medical dramas on TV, but it's no real substitute for experience.

"Oh." She pauses and sniffles some more.

"What did he promise you, Aya-chan?" I feel that moving pressure on my right hand again. Aya-chan's laying on my left side, so I guess this is Ran's hand on mine. Man, my back hurts. Random, but it's new so I'm hoping this reconnecting thing is working. It's certainly painful enough. I continue forcing awareness.

"It's a secret…" Oh great, you're going to make him paranoid, Aya-chan, and your brother is overprotective of you enough to begin with. Besides, I didn't promise because I'm unconscious. I would have, though, if I were able to tell you.

"Aya-chan…" Oh shit, that's the I'm-warning-you tone. Dammit, kiddo, you're going to get us both in trouble.

She sniffles, hopefully pouting at him. "I asked him to take me to an Ayumi concert when he wakes up…" Who? Probably some pop star. Am I really this out of touch with popular culture? Ran must be wearing off on me.

"You're a terrible liar, Aya-chan." It's matter-of-fact tone, but not an angry one at least. Man, I think she's laying on those broken ribs… This is at least the most pain I've been in since I first woke up in ComaTown.

A big sniffle this time. Lay it on thick, Aya-chan. "Anou…I…I asked him to take care of you…when I'm not around." Well, at least I don't have to pretend it never happened when I wake up. If I wake up.

Ran just sighs. "I'm going to be taking care of him for a while, Aya-chan. I can take care of us both." Aaw. You're going to stick around? That's good news, at least.

She moves off my chest, thank goodness. "You will?" She asks, the surprise is unfortunately evident in her voice.

"Of course." He replies softly. Wish I could see his face to tell if he's just placating her or not. Fingers brush against my right ear – probably tucking hair back. "I won't run from this, I promise."

…Holy shit. Huh.

"Really?!" Her voice is excited now, tears forgotten. I hear her footsteps running around the bed and the pressure leaves my right hand. I'm guessing she's hugging him. "Are you going to tell him too?"

Back on the telling me something! Wake up, self! Must find out… I force even more awareness, which is only increasingly painful.

"How did you know?" It's a somewhat accusatory tone this time. Apparently this was supposed to be a secret.

"I could tell since I've known you forever, silly." Haha! Schooled. "Plus I asked Birman to make sure."

Silence. Ominous silence. "…That meddling woman."

Really? I still don't get to know? And all I've gained from trying to wake up so far has been an excruciating awareness of the pain in my chest and back. And a headache on top of it all.

Aya-chan giggles. "Don't be mad, Niichan." That's like telling birds not to shit on cars, kiddo. Most things make Ran grouchy. "I support you one-hundred percent!" She's so cheerful and matter-of-fact. I like her matter-of-fact tone much better than Ran's grumpy one.

Oookay. This is a bit too painful to continue for now and it's only made me tired, which I still don't see how it's possible when I'm technically sleeping. Comas are weird. I vow to research them when I wake up.

* * *

So, we've already established that it's annoyingly possible to dream here in ComaLand. Fun fact: it's also possible for those dreams to be nightmares. The horror movie du jour (it's a horror to me, at least) is one where Ran is the cult's messiah and not me. I have to watch him being beaten, burned, crushed, drowned, whipped, and crucified and I can't do a goddamn thing about it. He's up on that metal cross, bound up in my wire, blood dripping everywhere and I'm running toward him, but I never really move. I'm crying and screaming his name like that'll somehow help. It's really too much to deal with, way more real than any nightmare previously has been. (Probably because I've lived it, just a guess.) My chest feels like caving in and all I can do is scream his name.

Raaaaaaan! Well, it was supposed to be his name, but it really just comes out 'aaaaaaaaahuun' because there's something down my throat. Vision quickly is restored and holy shit is it bright! Fuck! My hearing's next and the sound of shrill beeps fills my ears. Too much at once! "Youji!" Cool gentle hands press softly against my chest. "Youji, calm down. It's okay. You're in the hospital." It's Ran's voice and I turn my head as much as possible to look at him. I probably look like a mad man – I know my eyes are wide open and I'm frantically looking around. My eyes finally focus - It really is him. He's okay. I lift my hands to try touching his face, but there are cords and cables and shit holding me down. Also, what the fuck is up with my throat and chest? Air's being forced into me and it's clashing with the way I want to breathe and FUCK! I start coughing and scratching at my throat. "Easy…" His hands still my own and gently hold them down. "It's a breathing tube. I've already called for the nurses – they'll take it out."

I force myself to calm down and let the machine regulate my breathing. How lazy is this? "Easy. Do you recognize me?" He asks. Really? Really? Of course, you idiot. The look I give him must convey my point as he gives a small smile. A small troupe of nurses come running in. A bit late, ladies. A few minutes and a few strangled gags later, I'm free of the tube-from-hell. Ran lifts a glass of water to my lips. "Just a sip. Swish it around – I know your mouth must be dry." He can be amazingly understanding when he wants to. I follow his instructions and feel marginally better. "Do you remember what happened?" Really? Is it customary to ask dumb questions of formerly unconscious people? I nod and look at my bandaged hands and arms. I look like a mummy. I try saying so, but it mostly comes out as 'ook like ummy'. Damn unused vocal cords and tube-molested throat.

He just smiles sadly, which is odd for Ran. "You've been injured extensively." Obviously. "You have lacerations all over your body, your nose and right cheekbone were broken, you had a collapsed lung, six broken ribs, multiple head wounds, extensive internal bruising, and your back was burned by a branding iron." Nice. "I think I covered everything." I make a show of rolling my eyes. Was that all? What, no…well, I can't really think of more injuries to add to that list. "Do you remember how they happened?"

Morbid curiosity? I nod, which is freakishly painful. "Your neck was one of the lacerations." Oh yeah, I remember garroting myself by turning my head.

I try making a concerned expression and gesturing ever so slightly toward him. "You 'kay?"

He gives a puzzled look. "I'm fine. They're all dead." He obviously can't comprehend why I'd be worried about him. He didn't have to see that nightmare.

I try lifting my arms again, but am met with the resistance from all the cords. I glare at them and start yanking off the crap I know isn't necessary – aka: everything but the IV.

His hands return to trying to hold mine down. "Stop. You have to stay a few days for observation. You were in a coma for 15 days."

Duh. I shake his hands off and lift mine to touch his face. I have to know he's real. I have to know he's okay and that this isn't another coma-dream. His eyes widen, obviously not expecting the intrusion. "It's okay." His eyes return to their normal size. "You're really awake." Maybe he's a closet telepath, 'cause he's been pretty much spot on with figuring out what I'm trying to say.

I'm awake. Ran's fine. The cultists are dead. Okay. Awareness slowly sinks in. I'm alive and Ran's okay. Okay. Whew. Well, now I don't know what to do. Yeah, that sounds silly, but really it's true. By the way, holy fuck am I in pain.

Ran must notice a slight grimace. "There's a morphine button here." He pulls down some new wire from behind my pillow.

I shake my head as best I can. No thank you, really.

He looks at me incredulously. "You're not in pain?" If ever a statement sounded more like sarcasm…

I nod. Of course I'm in pain, idiot. You were the one reciting my list-o-injuries. I just… I sigh.

"Then why not use painkillers?" Ran, you know you wouldn't use them if you were in my shoes.

"Don't wantta sleep." Ooooh, speech is improving. Practice makes perfect, I guess.

A kind of understanding settles on his face. "Nightmares?" He asks, slowly returning to his seat.

I nod.

"About your captivity?"

I bounce my head back and forth. "Sorta."

He pauses for a minute and scrutinizes my face. "About one of us getting hurt?"

I nod.

"We're all okay, Youji." He points out again. He knows nightmares aren't rational, so I don't bother telling him.

"An' wizards." I look pointedly at him with a small smile. Oh yeah, there were way too many wizard dreams for me to forget what he's been reading.

He has the decency to blush slightly. "Aya-chan brought that series…" He's adorable when he's uncomfortable. S'probably why I tease him so much.

"Your English is fine." It's slow and halting, but it's a complete and properly articulated sentence.

His eyes open slightly larger. I don't think he realized I would hear as much as I did or at least with the clarity that I did. He's probably also uncomfortable with the fact that my gaze hasn't left his face since I checked on my hands and all those cords. I'm probably coming off as super-creepy, but I can't help it. "Thank you." He whispers, looking down at his lap. Such a proper Japanese boy. "I can read and speak English alright, but I have trouble understanding spoken English."

"S'normal." I reply. Expressive and reading skills usually come before receptive. If I didn't speak two languages, I wouldn't have a clue what I just meant.

He nods. "You killed twelve cultists in total, by the way." He must be desperate for a conversation change.

"Shoulda got 'em all." Bastards took me by surprise somehow. "How'd we get outta the basement?" I've been dying to know since there weren't exits on the floor plans Omi acquired from the zoning department.

He lets me sip some more water before answering. "They had dug a tunnel out into the alley and covered it with plywood." Really? No one found that sooner? No one tripped over plywood and went 'hey, what's this huge fucking hole?' "It's also how they were transporting the missing persons out. They would have a van waiting." Nice. Sleezebags.

Shit, existing is painful. I try my best not to let it show on my face. "I was branded?" My questions have to be short thanks to my disused throat.

He nods and rummages around his chair where I can't see before handing me a printed picture. Why are you keeping this stuff around? It's a photo of my back and amongst the whip tracks and wire lacerations, there's an ornate cross spanning at least two-thirds of my back. At least it's right-side-up.

"Fitting." White Cross and all. Fortune, you're a bitch. If it weren't for shitty luck, I'd have no luck at all.

"Niichan! I brought – Youji-kun!" Whatever was in the bag is flung toward Ran and a bundle of pigtailed energy latches onto my chest. Oh fuck, that huuuurts. "You're awake! You're okay!" She's so happy I don't have the heart to let her know how painful this is, although I think I taste bile coming up into my throat. That's what happens when you try to ignore pain sometimes.

"Aya-chan, you're on his broken ribs." Ran says with some haste, but remains calm.

"Oh!" She yelps, launching herself backwards. "I'm so sorry, Youji-kun!" Her hands fly to her mouth and she looks properly contrite.

"S'ok." That's all I can manage while I try to control the pain and the bile. After a few breaths, I manage, "S'good to see you, kiddo".

She launches into rambling mode. "I came as soon as I could and I'll stay as long as you need me to and I'm so glad you're okay and we've all been so worried and you died twice and I was so scared!"

Ran hushes her by clearing his throat. "Can I get you anything, Kudou?" Oh, in front of people I get relegated back to surnames.

I shake my head. "Thank you, though." Might as well be polite to the man that saved my life and stayed by my side for 15 days, ne?

As a nurse comes in, Ran flees, probably due to too many people in the room. The nurse starts reattaching all the wires I removed. I did that for a reason, you know.

She must have noticed my glare. "You're not out of the woods yet, Kudou-san. We need to still monitor your vitals." She gives my hand a pat as she finishes and then walks away.

Aya-chan looks around. "Where did Niichan go?" She's adorably puzzled by his stealthy departure.

"He hates crowds and awkward situations." Oooh, a longer sentence! I'm getting better at this.

She huffs. "Three people are hardly a crowd, but that's Niichan for you." She sighs softly, still smiling. "He probably feels a little bit more comfortable stepping outside since you're awake." She settles in his abandoned chair.

I'm curious and now's as good of a time as any. "Why hasn't he left?"

She stares at me rather like an animal in headlights. "He's just been worried." Her tone always gives away when she's lying or hiding something.

I stare at her, knowing that it'll be a bit unnerving. It's cruel, but I want answers.

Aya-chan fidgets with her hands. Come on kid, crack. "Anou…" Yes? Come on… "Maybe you should ask Niichan that." Rats. She's gotten better at dodging and I don't have the energy to keep pressuring her. My disappointed look must show. "He promised he'd be honest…" Oh that bodes well. Not. Ran plus honesty usually equals a lecture on my faults. "Aaw, don't be upset. I don't think it's anything bad." She's trying to be comforting, but I don't imagine a realistic outcome where it wouldn't be unpleasant for me.

Ran walks in with a drink tray shortly thereafter and hands Aya-chan some fizzy pink liquid. He sets down two more drinks on my mobile table. "It's herbal tea, but I added a pack of sugar for you." He gingerly hands me a small cup with a lid. How'd he know how I drink herbal tea?

"Thank you." I manage to lift the cup and sip it a few times. I'm freakishly tired for some reason and that shouldn't happen after only being awake for twenty or so minutes. "Ran?" I ask, the effort it requires surprises me.

"Hhm?" He inquires as he sips his own tea.

"When can I leave?" I don't like hospitals, it's no secret. None of us do, really.

"When the doctor clears you." He replies quickly, shutting my hopes down.

"Boo." I manage. My vision's gotten kind of jiggly. "Didjyu drug me?" I slur out. This can't be normal.

Ran reaches over and plucks the half-drank cup from my hands. "No, but I did press your morphine button before I left." He just calmly takes a sip of tea.

I do my best to pout at him. You're cleverly diverting my questions by knocking me out, Ran. It's not very fair or nice, to say the least. I need to figure out how to disable that button if he's going to keep mashing it every time I wince.

"Rest now, Kudou. We'll be here." And with that, he effectively ignores me and starts quietly talking to Aya-chan. Ass. I just want to stay awake so I know you're there…

* * *

A/N: Short chapter, I know. I just wanted him to wake up, but for the main developments to happen later, probably after he's able to return home. I might speed through what I can since it'll be idle chitchat and Ran carefully avoiding all interpersonal topics. I'll start the next chapter immediately! As always, I cherish your feedback.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chosen (**_**chapter 12**_**)**

Author: Shukujo Kurai

Warnings: shounen-ai, OOC, mentions of violence

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiss. I do own Josh, Hideo, Yuri, Lanh, and all the dead people. ^_^;;;;

Thanks: There are so many of you now, it's hard to keep track! Special thanks go to my recent reviewers who really left me encouragements. I feel all warm and happy when I read them. Lol. Extra special thanks to RodiSquall, blackorcid, & Lizz.

Author's Notes: With Ran not being as stoic, I still label this as OOC. We're moving on to more character development, but (as always) I'll try my best to keep the dark humor in it. Oh, HUGE news! I met someone that was in a coma for like 6 months! He said he just had the same dream on loop. Not as fun as what I've portrayed, but at least mine makes for better entertainment. (In case you're curious, it was a dream where he, my fiancée, and some of their friends were in a bar in Tijuana. Yep. Pretty boring.)

* * *

Consciousness comes more or less like it always did before my captivity. Surprisingly, Ran's still there and still reading. I just lay here and listen for a bit until he glances over and notices that my eyes are open.

"You can tell me to stop." He states as he bookmarks our page and sets the book aside.

I shake my head as best I can manage. "Nah." I have to clear my throat and he immediately pours some water from a pitcher at my bedside. "I like listening to you." I inform him rather bluntly before I take the cup from him and sip my ice water.

He just stares for a second like I said something absolutely absurd. He's obviously uncomfortable now. "You're on a mechanical soft diet. Lunch should be up shortly." Way to change subjects.

I scrunch my face a bit. "What's that?" Sounds gross.

"Pureed food and liquids."

I scrunch my face completely. "Gross! I'm not ninety years old." Granted, I'm pretty pathetic right now, but surely I can chew my own damn food.

"Since you were on life support and the breathing tube, it's their way of playing it safe. Don't be surprised if they add thickener to the liquids." Well, at least he's talking more.

I know my eyebrow is raised. "Thickened liquids? What, I'm going to be drinking slime?"

I can tell he's hiding a smirk. "Pretty much."

I sigh loudly. Gross. Talk about taking away all dignity. Man, my scalp itches. Probably where my hair hasn't been washed in God knows how long. I try reaching up to scratch my head, but those damn wires pull me back. Fuck! Do I get no independence around here? I yank at the cords until I get enough slack to meet my head halfway where I am met with even more cords. "What the fuck?" More fucking wires! Why?!

"That's the EEG machine." Ran dutifully informs me. "They'll disconnect it soon. They were worried you might slip back into a coma."

I give a breathy snort. "I will if I'm not allowed to do anything for myself. I'm not even allowed to chew, for fuck's sake." Yeah, I'm grouchy. Ran is the last person I want to look weak in front of.

He doesn't manage to hide the smirk, the sadistic bastard.

I throw a half-hearted glare his way. "You know you'd be pissed too if this were happening to you."

"It wouldn't happen because I wouldn't have gotten caught."

Ouch. Thanks, Ran, for reminding me of my never-ending incompetence. I just look down at my hands and nod. It IS pretty goddamn pathetic. I wonder how long before I'm mobile. Shit, I just want to get out of here and lock myself in my room for a while. Why did they have to resuscitate me? I'm having just a little trouble at the moment remembering why I fought so hard to get back to a life where the person I admire most detests me. Oh yeah, goes back to that pathetic aspect again. I'll always be love's bitch. Maybe I should push the crap out of that morphine button so I can sleep through part of the embarrassment of having been captured and killed by a bunch of lunatics.

I can see Ran fidgeting out of the corner of my eye. He must hate being here even more than I do. He's already spent an unhealthy amount of time at people's bedsides, there's no need for it to continue. "You can go home if you want." I say softly, not making eye contact just yet. "I'm okay now and I'm sure you'd like to spend time with your sister." I look over at him sitting in that crappy hospital chair. Hope he hasn't been sleeping in that thing.

He looks at me and raises an eyebrow ever so slightly. "Do you want me to leave?"

I look away again. "I just know you hate hospitals and you've been here so long already and you always have important things to do and your sister's in town and I know you've missed her and I don't want to keep you from that and I know this has to be the most boring thing in your life."

"Youji." He cuts me off thankfully. I ramble when unnerved. "Just answer my question." Mm, Grumpy Ran is grumpy. He stands up, probably so he can look down at me. He knows that's intimidating.

There's not a good way to say both yes and no and I know he wouldn't like that answer anyway. It's like I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't. "I just thought you'd prefer to be away from a hospital and whiny injured people…"

"Shut up."

I look up at him with some amount of surprise and hesitance.

"What do YOU want, Kudou?"

Fucknuts. He's not letting me out of this. "Honestly?" I ask, mostly just to stall.

"Of course." Man, he's grouchy today.

"I don't really know." Before he can act on his frustration, I elabourate. "I like you being here but at the same time, it's embarrassing for me since I fucked up royally and cost you guys three days of time you could have spent on real missions or just being normal people… And as a result cost you over two weeks of time 'cause I was unconscious here…"

"Youji…" He sighs, drags his chair closer before sitting back down and closing his eyes. This is Ran's method of calming down; I've seen it enough since I aggravate him to no end, mostly just to talk to him and get a reaction. There's a part of me that still thinks that any attention is better than no attention. He appears to be debating on what to say. Since he's pissed enough already, I won't interrupt this process. "Look, I didn't mean that earlier, at least the way it sounded." I assume he means the comment about how he wouldn't have been captured. "Before all this…you said that you worried about my safety."

I nod. Not sure where you're taking this, Ran.

"I meant it to be so you know you never have to worry, even though I know you will. Any of us would have been captured in your situation, honestly. There was a private security system in the basement itself. When Omi looked through the surveillance to see where they took you, we saw what you had been up against. They knew we were coming, you were in close quarters, and they had a hostage. We all would have been taken off guard and either captured or killed."

That was honestly sweet, coming from Ran. If it had been anyone else, I would have just commented on how they were finally using logical thought, but from Mr. Perfect to say he would have been in the same boat, it's endearing and very very meaningful to me.

He sighs with an odd wince before reaching over where I can't see. "Here, don't cry." He dabs at my face with a tissue and perches himself on the edge of my bed.

"Huh? I'm crying?" I have to sound retarded. I would have thought that crying would have been something I'd notice.

He nods. "Aya-chan did it for a while too after she woke up. Something about malfunctioning brain chemistry after a coma."

"Oh." Yep. You know me - keeping those intelligent answers coming. Great, so I'm going to be having mood swings like a teenage girl. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I watch as he folds his hands on his lap, still sitting on the edge of my hospital bed. "You know, Youji, this isn't easy for me." Taking care of people? No, I know you're not a very motherly person, Ran. "It's been years since I really talked openly with someone." He gives a little sigh and stares at his hands. "It seems so easy when I see you talking away to people."

I bump his back with the back of my fist. "That's just small talk, Ran." I explain the best I can. "There's no feelings or very deep thoughts involved."

He turns to me with an odd smirk. "Most conversations with you don't seem to involve deep thought, Kudou."

It's weird, but I can tell he's trying to joke with me. "Oh harr harr." I grumble in what I hope comes off as a playful manner. "It IS nice to see that my acting skills haven't dulled over the years." It's all a façade, surely even you can tell that, Ran.

He grows a little somber, looking away thoughtfully. "Do you ever talk about real things with anyone?"

Real things? I assume he means 'smart stuff'. I think for a minute. Probably the last intelligent conversation I had was with Professor Crazy-hair, despite the fact that it wasn't wholly honest on my part. Of course, he didn't come right out and say 'hey, you have a tattoo that my cult is really interested in and we think you might be our messiah'. "Not very often." There's no need to explain that right now. "I tried once with Ken back when I first joined Weiß, but you can imagine how that went." Ken stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "I try to keep Omi upbeat and avoid any depressing topics with him." I'm sure there are positive deep conversations, but at the moment I can't think of any. "And I don't really talk to anyone else in much depth. I guess you and Birman are the closest I've come to a real conversation in years." Of course, talking about serial murderers probably isn't the best conversation route…

He tenses and kind of curls in on himself ever-so-slightly. What did I say? Geez, I thought I was supposed to be the one with mood swings. "That doctor, Dr. Ikkudo, kept talking about you and Birman like you were married."

I can't help it. I let out an abrupt sputtering laugh. Guess mouse-man really did think we were together. "Ran, there's no way Birman and I are together, despite how I used to joke with you guys."

He looks halfway offended, probably because I laughed at him. "I know that." He informs me like I should never have doubted. "Birman probably has better taste." From the slight tilt of his eyebrow and ever-so-subtle smirk, I'm assuming that he's joking. At least, I'm going to take it as a joke because I have enough to be depressed about at the moment. I don't need any more fuel for that fire.

I snort then smile a bit. "Yeah, probably."

He turns thoughtful again. "So why do it?"

Huh? "Why do what?" Come on Ran, three times dead guy here – there probably aren't many functional brain cells left.

"Act like you're interested in her. Why bother?"

I look away. Someone's brought an African violet and put it in my windowsill. They obviously haven't heard my rant about that particular plant. Sigh. I guess it's safe to tell him. If nothing else, I'll act like it never happened and claim post-resuscitation amnesia, if such a thing exists. "It's kind of hard to explain." I start to tell him while gathering my thoughts.

"I have plenty of time." He deadpans. Apparently he's actually curious about this.

I halfway sigh and turn to stare blankly at his black sweater. "It makes me…less intimidating. People don't worry about what they say around me or how they act, since they just assume I'm retarded anyway. They feel perfectly fine discussing terribly personal matters around me probably because they guess I'll either forget or that I'm not listening anyway. I find out so much more information just by flirting and feigning ignorance than I ever did by being serious and straight-forward." I look toward the window again. "And…that way I don't have to think about all the horrible stuff in our lives and in the past. You saw the way I acted and the way people treated me after I killed Asuka." I was depressed, I didn't smile, didn't joke, didn't flirt and people treated me like I was glass and the slightest hint at a serious topic would shatter me. It sucked.

I see him nod in my peripheral vision. "So it's just your crappy coping mechanism?" Way to sum it up, Ran-chan.

I look back toward his face. "Yeah, I guess you say it that way. Joking and making a mockery of things just became my way of dealing with shit because the world treats depressed people like time bombs and I absolutely hate it when people try to tiptoe around me and treat me like I'm glass."

He's silent for a minute. "Well, that part makes sense." Huh. Ran's agreeing with me. Ish. "That's part of why I act like I don't have feelings. People are more honest when they know they're not going to hurt me." He still refuses to look toward me.

"Yeah. Hey, do the Ice Queen jokes get as old and as hurtful to you as the Airhead Whore ones do to me?" Well, he's the one that admitted that he does have feelings, in a round-about way, at least.

This time he does glance over at me. "Sometimes, yes."

Honesty time! I feel like I won a contest just now simply by hearing Ran admit that. "You know, since we're being honest and all, that's part of why I always tried to pick on you and bugged you to no end."

He gives me a small smile. "I know." He replies simply and I kind of stare at him, surprised that he of all people would have noticed. "I'm not very good with people, but I don't have to be in order to see that you just wanted to watch the mask crack, even if it was in anger."

I have the decency to blush a bit. I'm very guilty of just assuming that he had zero people skills and absolutely no knowledge of emotions other than anger. Granted, I've always hoped that one day we'd see grief or love from him, but I always just wrote it off as a fantasy. Okay, we saw both in regard to his sister, but never anyone else.

He very slightly tilts his head as he stares at me. "When was it that you decided that negative attention was better than no attention at all?"

Sudden personal question time! Since we're being honest and all… "I guess it was after my mother died and I started getting passed around between random 'family friends'." I focus on one of his eartails, hoping that it still looks like I'm looking at him.

"Where was your father?" Ah, Ran. Still assuming that everyone grew up with a 'normal' family.

I shrug. "Not sure. He wasn't around much."

His head shifts again and I can see he's looking directly into my eyes. "What are you not saying?" He knows I'm trying to dodge. Crap.

I sigh. "I just…I don't want you to think badly of me." God, we went from easy-to-discuss topics to horribly-personal-and-kinda-embarrassing ones in no time.

His eyebrows furrow slightly, I notice as I abandon hope of avoiding eye contact in favor of staring at his hair. "Why would I? Parents have their own shit going on and it doesn't make their child good or bad." Sounds oddly understanding coming from Ran. "Before I joined Kritiker, I might have judged someone on basis of their parents, but look at Omi." He pauses, presumably for dramatic effect. "He's the son of the man that destroyed my family and yet he's one of the four people I'm closest to."

I nod. Ran's much more compassionate than I realized. I inhale and exhale slowly. "Okay. I'll trust you with this. It's not even in my Kritiker file." I hope I'm making the right decision here. I keep hoping that if I open up to him, he'll do the same in return eventually.

He nods, and watches me, waiting patiently.

"My mother was the sweetest person alive, full of life and love and joy. She loved me, her God, the world and everything in it." I close my eyes. "I was never sure how she managed to still be like that and still love me so much after what she went through." I take a fortifying breath and open my eyes. "She was an immigrant from Ireland, coming to Japan for missionary work through the Catholic Church. She had been here about three months before she made the mistake of walking alone at night. A man pretended to have an injured friend, and my mother was naïve and wanted to help."

Ran apparently sees where this is going as I feel his hand cover one of mine.

"He dragged her into an alley and into an abandoned building where he raped her for hours. Police found her tied to an old radiator, unconscious." I turn my hand to grip Ran's. "A few weeks later, the police tracked him down and my mother discovered that she was pregnant with me. He spent a few years in jail before being released and starting to harass us for his 'parental rights'."

Ran's hand grows impossibly tighter around mine as he laces our fingers together. Any other moment, I would be marveling at this, but right now I just want to get this story out and never speak of it again.

"My mother and I lived our lives running from him, essentially. We went from church to church and from one parishioner's house to another." My free hand grips the crappy hospital blanket, twisting it. "Somehow throughout this time, she was still joyful and loving. She kept stressing forgiveness to me, trying to keep me from growing up filled with hatred for that man. She still took me to parks and festivals and she home schooled me. She was the most perfect woman in the world, aside from being a bit naïve or dumb." Sorry Mom, it's true. You SO could have run to an embassy and fled the country. "I was nine when he killed her."

Ran's free hand has apparently come up to pet what he can of my hair. It's sweet that he's doing all he knows to comfort me.

"He caught up to us at a hostel in Tokyo. He threw me against the wall and, while I was dazed, grabbed my mother and brought her toward me, facing me. I was just regaining my bearings, listening to her telling me to forgive and grow up filled with love instead of hatred, when he tilted her head and slit her throat." I take time to gulp and Ran immediately fetches me my cup of water. I open my eyes to sip it, but carefully avoid eye contact. I just keep gripping his hand. "He held her up by her hair and ran this huge knife right through her back and out her chest." I cough a bit, but am determined to finish this now that I started telling someone. "He threw her on me and laughed. I knew she couldn't make it, and I'm not sure how I managed the rest; the police said it was something like a survival mode where I ran on pure adrenaline. I remember laying her down on the ground and untying her scarf that she wore as a headband. I'm not sure how I did it, but I remember latching onto his back and strangling him with her scarf. The police said I had several broken ribs and a slightly cracked skull from where he slammed me against the walls trying to knock me off of him. I don't remember much of it, just disconnected scenes from the scuffle. Either way I killed him." I hand the now-empty cup back to Ran, who wordlessly refills it for me. "I wasn't charged, even though the police walked in on a little kid curled up around a dead woman with a dead man nearby. It had to look suspicious. There had been a homeless-looking lady hiding in the corner behind some furniture and she testified to what had happened." I exhale and force myself to relax. "I went to a Catholic orphanage where my mother had volunteered for a while and then from family to family after that until I was old enough for the system to let me live on my own."

I finally look up at Ran, who immediately wipes at my face with a tissue. Only now do I realize how much I had been crying through that. God, I have to look like a complete child to him, crying over my dead mother. "I'm sorry, Youji, for making you tell me all that. It was obviously very difficult and cost you a lot to tell me."

I release his hand and take the tissue from him and try to blow my nose, but am met with intense pain when I try.

"Your nose was broken." Ran explains again. "Try holding the tissue at the end of your nose and blowing instead of holding the tissue near the bridge." Ah, good ol' analytical Ran.

It works, unsurprisingly since it was one of Ran's ideas. I'm silent for a while, trying to compose myself and seem less like a four-year-old. God, he even had to hold my hand. I am the least masculine male in Japan.

"It's my fault."

I look up into Ran's face incredulously. Huh?

"I shouldn't have had you tell me something so personal when your brain chemistry is still unstable."

Oh. "No worries. I probably would have cried anyway."

His lower lip puffs out ever-so-slightly, an unconscious gesture he does when contemplating something very difficult to him. "Do you talk about that incident often?"

I give him a look. Really? Do I look like the type to tell strangers that I was already a murderer at age nine?

He huffs. "I meant have you ever talked about it?"

Oh. "Once to the police, once to Asuka, and now once to you." Three times in over a dozen years. Man, I could use a cigarette to calm down, but I'm not even going to bother mentioning that to Ran.

My heart melts as he gives me a small soft genuine smile. "Thank you for trusting me with that, Youji."

I can't help but give a smile in return and nod. "Can you promise me one thing?"

He nods. "I won't tell anyone."

I shake my head. "No, all I really want is for you not to treat me any differently because of how I grew up."

He looks at me for a bit and then nods. "I won't coddle you or avoid subjects, but I can't help treating you like a stronger person than what I had been."

I hope that doesn't mean he's going to pick on me more or demand better work in the shop.

"I respect you for what you went through and how, despite having to joke about everything, you made it through and became who you are today."

I raise an eyebrow. "An inept assassin with a penchant for attracting psychopaths?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "Although you DO attract trouble, you're not inept." Really, Ran? I force myself not to say something sarcastic. "I know I often insinuate that you are, but I wouldn't trust you like I do if you were really inept. I organize us to where I have YOU covering my back. I trust you completely to protect me and do your job. You have a very difficult weapon to control, but you do your job so well that I trust you the most with my safety."

I stare wide-eyed at him. I have to look like an idiot. Ran trusts me? He thinks I'm good at what I do? We have apparently entered another dimension and stepped into BizarroLand.

He half smirks. "Now, I don't trust you at all with your OWN safety, given your records with tobacco, alcohol, and sleep deprivation."

That's more like the real Ran. I give him a goofy scowl.

I see a Mona Lisa smile before he turns his attention toward the water pitcher. "That's another reason I pair us up often – so I can protect you."

Aaaaand back to the wide-eyed stare. Birman's sleep deprived ramblings about Abyssinian being worried for my safety are starting to make sense. My you-probably-shouldn't-say-this filter is malfunctioning due to this information overload. "Do you really call Birman in the middle of the night to check on me?"

His eyes widen before narrowing into slits as he glares at a plant on the bedside table. "…That meddling woman." He grumbles before he stands up and storms out of the room.

Huh. Well that was odd.

* * *

After a while, some lady in a uniform and hospital badge comes to take the wires off my head, which is not a fun process, let me tell you. There's gummy shit in my hair now. Through a toned-down version of my usual flirting, I get her to tell me what devices are absolutely necessary and convince her to take that damn catheter out. So degrading.

It's painful, but I haul myself up and stand with her assistance. She provides me with a new 'gown' and what constitutes pants around here and steadies me as I change. I convince her to let me be on my own and I hobble over to a chair near the window, dragging my IV pole along with me. Actually, it makes an okay crutch in a pinch.

It's been a while and I'm gazing out the window when the door opens. "Youji!" I hear Ran's voice call before he's back out the door. Idiot. It's not like I can escape in this condition. I take a breath and haul myself up with the IV pole and the arm of this chair. Once I'm assured of my balance, I hobble as quickly as I can to the doorway. I can see Ran down the hallway at the nurses' station animatedly (for Ran, at least) fussing about something. With a sigh, I hobble partway out into the hallway. "Ran!" I shout as best I can with my still-sore throat, but it does the trick. Ran's furious form comes stomping my way.

"What are you doing up?" He almost-gently grabs my elbow and tugs me toward the room. "You shouldn't be up so soon." He's kind of cute when he fusses.

"I was just sitting in the chair by the window when you came in. I asked them to change the sheets and give me more dignified clothing". It's the truth. I'm almost clean, aside from the severe lack of showering. Ugh. So gross.

"Don't push yourself too quickly, Youji." He reminds me as he continues to guide me to the room. I did get out here on my own, you know. I'm not senile or an invalid.

Getting back into bed is more of a process than getting out of it. My back hurts like hell and trying to scoot around on that damn bed just aggravates it. Should have just stayed sitting in the window chair. Once mostly settled, I begin the task of pulling that wire glue out of my hair.

Ran calms himself down while I'm busy, or at least I hope that's what he's doing. "You shouldn't have been able to manage that so soon."

"I heal pretty fast." I inform him dully. "I'll probably pay for it later." It's a concession I have to make for him. I tug on a particularly large wad of gummy-glue. Yuck.

He wordlessly passes me a tissue to put the paste in. "Please be careful." He almost whispers.

I pause and stare at him for a moment before resuming my task. I assume he doesn't mean for me to be careful with my hair. "I will. I'm a whiny wuss, Ran, I won't do more than I can handle. I was just going insane laying here."

He nods and a doctor chooses that moment to come visit. At least the topic will change.

"Kudou-san, were you just in the hallway?" Goddamn it. So much for the hope of a new topic. I nod and he stares at me as though evaluating me. "Please allow a nurse to assist you – we don't want you falling on us." At least he's more permissive than Ran was. "Anyway, I'm your wound care doctor." They make those? That's an actual specialty? I thought all doctors did that. He presumptively takes my arm and undoes the bandages on the deepest of the wounds before repeating the process on the rest of my limbs. "I need to have you lean forward so I can undo the bandages on your back." Yay. Ran stands up and offers his hand to help me sit up. I take it, but he doesn't release me once I'm up. "Hmm…" I'm not sure if that's a good sound or a bad sound coming from a wound doc. He pokes a particularly squishy spot and I wince and tilt to my right involuntarily. "Oookay. Wait right there, Kudou-san." He states before walking back out of the room.

I raise my head and catch Ran's eye. "That's not a good noise from him, is it?"

Ran looks back down at whatever the doctor poked at. "Not particularly, no." Fantastic.

The doctor shuffles back in with a nurse and a tray of assorted medical goodies. Lovely. "I'm going to take a culture of this." I feel him scraping something and I involuntarily wince again. Ran grips my hand tighter and shuffles closer to my side so I can lean on him. He can be oddly considerate at times. "The lacerations are healing well, but the burn isn't healing as expected." Stupid goths and their branding irons. "Depending on the culture results, we may need to debride this particular section." The nurse is just focusing on putting new bandages on the places the doctor has already examined.

"I'm no doctor, but that doesn't sound good." Sarcasm, you are my only hope in these situations.

"Well, it'll be good for the healing process, which is good for you, but no, usually it means something's not healing right." At least he realizes he has to dumb shit down for me. "Debridement is where we go in and remove the dead or severely infected tissue to help the healthy tissue heal."

I make a gag face. "Gross. What are my options to avoid that?"

"It depends on what the culture shows. If it's MRSA, we try Vancomycin. If it's VRSA, we can try much stronger antibiotics, but we may have to debride it. If it's a flesh-eating bacteria, we have to debride it."

I sigh and lean on Ran. "Okay. Can you clean what you can of it now just for my peace of mind?"

"I intended to." He's blunt.

While he and his nurse dig around in my back, Ran starts petting my hand with the thumb of his. It's a good distraction.

"There you are." The doctor states as his nurse hands him new bandages. "The other wounds look to be healing as well as we expected, so I'm going to run this to the lab. The sooner we identify it, the sooner we can treat it with medicines instead of debridement."

I shoo him with my free hand. "By all means, go then."

Ran eases me back and the nurse props me up facing my left with some weird fabric roll, causing Ran to have to let go of my hand. "You need to be rotated every so often to allow as much air as possible to those wounds and prevent bedsores."

Fantastic. "Well, me and my 90-year-old self will be right here eagerly awaiting the next repositioning." It's not my wittiest comment, but I'm grouchy.

She just pats my arm and leaves.

I sigh and stare at the machines and the window, which I'm now facing. I hear something scraping against the floor and discover that Ran's dragging his chair over to the other side where I can see him.

"I know you don't like to be facing away from what you're trying to listen to." He explains in brief before going back to drag the mobile table over and arrange my water for me.

"Thank you." I admit and try to smile at him. He really is being curiously nice throughout all this.

He nods and fidgets. "Look Youji…" Oh, here it comes - the 'this has been great and all but I have to go now' speech. "I know this is kind of a degrading experience and I wouldn't be handling it nearly as well as you are."

I look up at him, surprised that he's conceding that much.

"What would make that position more comfortable?" He asks, with all the seriousness in the world in his face.

I pause to think for a minute. "Maybe if I sat up and rested against the bed in a sort of fetal position." It's a weird and probably crappy suggestion, but this is terribly uncomfortable and anything sounds better.

Together, we position the bed to conform to what comes as close to comfortable as it can. It's not bad, really, at least when I compare it to the dog kennel I was in. Gotta put things in perspective.

"I know you feel like you can't do much, but if it's not too uncomfortable, would you like to read the next chapter out loud?" Ran's adorably holding out whatever number book we're on.

It's so cute, I can't help but smile and accept the book from him and start reading.

Ran listens to me and pulls more gunk from my hair as I read. I can't help but use different voices for each character. I used to read to the younger kids at the orphanage and the various families I stayed with. Ran seems to enjoy it, at least, if his tiny smiles and muffled chuckles are any indication. He particularly likes my Mad-Eye Moody voice. When I get to something confusing, he'll explain the backstory to me – I don't remember everything from my jaunt into ComaLand.

Three chapters later, he stops me. "Your voice is breaking up." He hands me my cup of water. "Let's just see what's on the news for a minute." The TV clicks to life and some man is yakking on about the economy. Boring. I kind of space out, tracing a finger over the images on the book cover. We're on the sixth one now, which just indicates how long I've been here. I like this Snape fellow, though; he reminds me of Ran: strong, silent, and snarky. I sip my water to indulge Ran and he smiles. You know, if it weren't for the horrible injuries, this would almost be paradise.

The doctor strolls in without knocking this time. "Good news – it's MRSA." That's the weirdest good news I've heard in a while, at least since 'good news – we found the messiah!'. He walks over and changes an IV bag. "We're starting you on a high dose of Vancomycin to kill the bacteria. I see they've started turning you."

I can't help but glare.

"I know it's uncomfortable, Kudou-san, but until we clear this up we can't risk airing out your wounds." He looks over at me in a scrutinizing fashion. "It'd help more if you were a side-sleeper." What a weird fucking thing to say.

"I am, at home." I reply grumpily, earning more of Ran's attention. Immediately, he tries to diffuse the situation.

"How long before you can tell if the antibiotics are working?" It must have been the first question to pop into his head since he can see I'm ready to bludgeon this guy with a paperback.

"About two days, at the soonest." The doctor replies, checking the IV thing once more.

Ran seems determined to keep the focus off of me. "And if they don't work?"

The doctor turns to him with a huff. "We'll try the stronger antibiotics then. Look, I understand your boyfriend is in pain, but please allow us to do our very best for you both."

Before I can step in to diffuse that situation, Ran's fist collides with the doctor's cheek. "Don't take that prejudiced elitist attitude with me, you Goddamn son-of-a-bitch." The curses were in English, I randomly note as I grab Ran's hand to distract him.

"Don't anger the people in charge of my medication, Ran. I don't care what people think of me; it's okay." Granted, I care what they think of you and I would probably have tried to trip that asshole doctor or something, but still.

The doctor staggers. "I will be speaking to your superiors about this!"

"Of course, call Birman and she'll help you." I state while feigning concern and trying to suppress a grin, a fact that Ran notices.

"I will be doing just that!" The doctor storms out, the confused nurse following shortly thereafter with a quick bow.

Ran gives me a small smile. "What do you think Birman is going to say to him?"

I grin in return. "Not sure, but I'm certain it'll be funny." I don't have the heart to torture him further by asking why that assumption upset him so much.

"Are you in pain?" He asks, placing his elbow on the upper bed and leaning onto it.

I give what I hope is an unconcerned expression. "I'm always in pain, so this isn't anything different."

Ran immediately clicks that damn button. Before I can protest, he interrupts. "Don't worry. I had the charge nurse change it to the smallest dose possible."

I smile at him, utterly thrilled that he remembered how much I hate narcotics. "Thank you, Ran." I see my hand unconsciously move to tuck his bangs away from his eyes.

He smiles back, oddly enough. "Don't worry, Youji. Rest and watch the news for a bit." I turn my attention back to the television to spare Ran the awkwardness of the situation.

* * *

The sound of Birman's footsteps are ingrained into my memory, so I greet her without opening my eyes. "Hey Birman, long time no see."

"Good evening, Youji." She manages before turning her attention to the matter at hand. "Abyssinian, did you really strike Dr. Matsumori?" She places her hands on her hips for dramatic effect, which is slightly ruined by the smirk she can't quite suppress.

"He was an asshole." Ran states plainly, crossing his arms in defiance.

Birman mock-sighs and moves to sit on my bed. "What did he do?" She asks, turning to me. I guess she thinks I'm going to be less biased.

"He made a presumptuous comment about Abyssinian and myself." I reply with a shrug. It wasn't that big of a deal, compared with our daily lives.

Birman huffs and turns to Ran. "You can't punch random people for assuming you're together. You HAVE spent over two damn weeks here, after all."

Ran doesn't bother to appear apologetic or embarrassed. "He shouldn't be an ass." I doubt there's anything I can do to diffuse this.

She rolls her eyes. "Nor should you." She folds her arms with a melodramatic sigh. "What am I going to do with you two?"

"Hey!" I begin with great offense. "I was the good guy in this incident!"

Neither of them pays me any mind. "You can assign us doctors that know how to be professional." Ran retorts, glaring at Birman for all he's worth. The two continue to bicker as I sigh and turn up the volume on the boring news channel. Some random elementary school had a successful cultural fair, the economy's starting to suck, some politician had an affair and dutifully resigned out of embarrassment - the usual. At least I haven't seen anything about murder, missing persons, or someone discovering random body parts. I take a moment to tune back in to Ran and Birman's spirited 'discussion'.

"What else do you think people are assuming, Abyssinian?! You haven't left the hospital in over two weeks!" Birman's apparently to the point of flailing hand gestures.

Ran just glares. He hasn't moved from his chair or even uncrossed his arms.

"You can always tell them he's my paid babysitter. Retarded people need 24/7 watch." I offer, hoping to end this nonsense argument.

"Shut up, Kudou." They say in unison. Well, at least I got them to agree on something. I sigh and pour myself more water, sipping it slowly while I watch their verbal sparring match.

"They shouldn't assume anything. They're paid to be professional, not moral nutjobs." I think that's the first time I've heard Ran use the word 'nutjob'. Hm.

Birman rolls her eyes. "We can't control other people's behaviour, but we SHOULD be able to control our own." Well, maybe that argument will work against the proper side of Ran, but right now he's just grouchy.

He glares. "Then what do you want to do about it?" He grumbles. Apparently she made sense to him.

Birman looks slightly relieved. "I've reassigned him, Abyssinian. All you had to do was ask and explain the situation to me. You didn't have to give him a black eye." She drags another chair over to sit down. "I convinced him not to sue by reminding him of what you two do for a living. He IS one of our doctors."

Ran smirks and surprisingly, Birman returns the gesture. Let's hope this argument is over. I yawn, which apparently reminds Birman of my presence.

"Oh, here." She hands me a cloth bag. "I brought some things for you since you've been awake."

Yay! Real presents! Not the crappy kind like the cult had! I rummage around in the bag and pull out a sketchbook, some pencils, and some erasers. I lay them reverently on the mobile tray thingie and smile at her. "Thank you, Birman."

She smiles back politely. "You're very welcome, Kudou."

Ran suddenly gets up and moves to the door. "I'm getting something to drink. Do you want anything, Kudou?" He's still grouchy. I'm still convinced that's his baseline state.

"Anything with a flavour, please." I reply. The water's getting kind of old.

He nods, then glares at the back of Birman's head. "Birman?" I'm surprised he's offering, given their little face-off there.

"Hot tea, if you don't mind. Here." Before he can step away, Birman's handing him some money.

He sighs and takes her offered money. "Black or green?" Oooh, he's playing nice.

"Black, please." She smiles at him and it appears to be genuine.

He just blinks and walks out. That's Mr. Social for you.

As soon as he's gone, her expression changes to curious and kind of giggly. It's actually pretty creepy. "So…?" She leads, scooting a bit closer to my bed.

I tilt my head, ignoring the stretching sensation from the wound around my neck. "So…?" I'm not giving her the satisfaction easily, although I'm not 100% certain what she's after.

Her eyes roll. "How has it been spending 24/7 with him?" She keeps smiling. "Not as hateful toward you as you thought he'd be?"

I sigh. I would never have guessed Birman would be the gossiper between her and Manx. "No, he's been pretty nice, by his standards at least." I concede, otherwise she'll keep digging.

"You've been awake for three days now and they tell me you're already up and walking." God, is that gigantic news around here? Am I the only patient in this hospital?

"Yes…" I still don't see the big deal. Ran would have been walking within three hours of waking up.

Birman rolls her eyes again. She must love doing that or she's just sleep deprived again. "By normal standards, that's a miracle, Kudou. 70% of your body has stitches and you died twice! Not to mention the internal damage you sustained."

I smile half-heartedly. "We're not exactly normal people, Birman." We've trained to the point where death just isn't that big of a deal.

Her attitude deflates a little. "I know." She admits, looking down at her hands with a sigh.

I feel badly for depressing her. "Ran says it's a big deal, too." If Mr. Perfect thinks it's good, it must be great, right?

She looks up with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous grin. "So we're on the real-name basis now?"

I make a face that can't be pretty. "Shit, I'm not supposed to call him that around other people. Please forget I said it."

She chuckles. "Don't worry. I never call him anything other than his code name or surname and I won't tell anyone."

"Please don't." I really hope she doesn't gossip with Manx or anyone else.

She just gives me a dismissive wave. "Kritiker knows that, given the unusual circumstances involved in our line of work, sexual or romantic relationships between teammates often happen. Although we don't actively encourage them, we don't act against them unless it becomes a problem during missions." It sounds like she's reading a policy page.

I know I must be blushing. "There's no relationship, Birman!" I whisper-yell at her.

Her eyes regard me with a sad sort of expression. "Do you want there to be?" She tilts her head and honestly looks like a sad little kid.

The blush has to be intensifying. "Birman, I'll be tickled shitless if he considers me a friend. Anything more is unfathomable right now."

She almost pouts, I swear. "The question wasn't about probability, it was about what you wish for."

I half bury my face in my arms as best I can in this awkward position. "Of course, I do, Birman. He's so important to me and you know that. Do you think I would have entered that basement first if I had been paired with Ken? Hell no."

She chuckles, probably trying to show me that my words aren't going to be a death sentence.

"Somehow, somewhere along the way, he's even managed to completely eclipse Asuka in my heart. But this is SO important that I don't want to risk fucking any of it up. I'm beyond happy with him regarding me like he is now, so long as I'm anything but his nemesis." I wouldn't be me if I didn't joke. "Takatori's dead now, so the position is open."

She laughs as I intended and I don't bother analyzing it to see whether it was forced or not. I'm caught off guard by a hand pulling my face out of my arms. "Youji, I'll keep your secret, I swear. Whatever I can do to help, just let me know."

I smile at her unexpected kindness. Yep, I'd say she's sleep deprived. "Thanks, Birman, but this is enough for me."

I jump as I hear a throat being cleared. Ran's standing impatiently in the doorway. "Should I come back later?" His words are pretty much dripping venom. Great.

Birman just smiles like nothing's going on. "No, you're fine. I was just trying to cheer Kudou up." This can't go well. "Remember that it could always be worse." She notes with a forced happy tone before sitting down and accepting her drink from Ran, who surprisingly doesn't pour it on her despite the intense death glare he's giving her.

I try to act like there was nothing suspicious going on and grin at them. "Yeah, yeah. I could be back in my dog kennel with all the injuries."

Ran looks positively vicious. "I torched that place, so it's gone." He sips his own tea after setting my flavoured water down. I need to be more specific next time.

I look at him with a mixture of surprise and thanks. I know it's just part of the job, but it still seems like a nice gesture, given the circumstances. "Oh. Thank you." I offer, trying to be polite here. Man, it's a sea of awkward tension in this room.

He looks at me like I'm nuts. Yep, he was just doing his job and not burning a place out of vengeance. "I was doing my job, Kudou." Ouch. VenomVoice is venomous.

Birman sighs loudly, earning her a glare from Ran. I desperately want out of this room.

A nurse must have heard my psychic pleas and chooses this moment to bring a tray in. "Lunchtime, Kudou-san!" She chirps happily, setting my tray down on the mobile table and uncovering it with somewhat of a flourish.

I stare. I blink. I stare some more. "What IS it?" I ask, taking my fork and poking the white pile. There's a brown pile and a green pile too.

"Um… meat and vegetables? To be honest, I don't work in the cafeteria, so I'm not certain." She bows apologetically and leaves.

I stare in horror at my three piles of shit. I hear Birman snicker and I see Ran trying not to smile or laugh out of the corner of my eye. I poke the white pile again. "Well, that LOOKS like mashed potatoes." I scoop some of it on my fork. Mashed potatoes aren't bad and they're hard to screw up. I shovel it in my mouth and as I go to swallow, my brain shouts 'get it out, get it out'. I spit violently back onto my tray, gagging as I try to use the napkin to wipe the rest of it off my tongue. "Sneaky cauliflower! Sneaky hospital!"

This time Birman just outright loses it and laughs hysterically. Ran even has to turn away so I don't see him chuckling.

"No more tricks!" I push the tray away as far as I can, eyeing it suspiciously. "Tricky cooks! Bad hospital!" I cross my arms in childish defiance.

I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and turn to see Ran smiling at me. "I'll bring you real food." He must have forgotten Birman's presence since he's forgetting to be a grouch.

"Real food?"

He nods.

"Food with matching appearance and taste? No sneaky food?" I will NEVER fall for that again. I will abuse people as taste testers.

He tries to suppress a grin. "Yeah. Real food." His hand squeezes my shoulder slightly.

"Thank you." I reply with a small smile before trying to scoot the evil tray further from me.

Birman chuckles softly and gathers my art supplies up and into their bag, which she places at my side. She thankfully finds the lid and covers up the piles of horror.

I scoot the whole mobile desk-tray-thing away. "Can you please convince them to discontinue the slime?" I look toward Birman pleadingly.

"I'll try." She gives me a smile. At least I broke up their fight and lightened the atmosphere. "I have to get going now. Get well soon, Kudou."

I nod. "Thank you again for the sketching stuff."

She nods before turning to Ran with a more serious face. "A word please, Abyssinian?"

Ran half-glares before following her out the door, shutting it behind him.

Now I'm trapped in the room with that tray… I uncover my leg and use it to scoot the tray-desk further away. I proceed to guzzle my flavoured water in a futile attempt to rid myself of surprise-cauliflower aftertaste. So nasty…

* * *

A/N: Huzzah, character development! Sorry for those offended by Youji's past in this story. It's half congruent with my other older story. It's just how I imagine his life to have been. Oh, the three piles of shit and sneaky cauliflower part, totally a true story. Grandpa made me taste it first – he was already on to their tricks. Please, as always, review for me. I get all giddy and stuff when I receive them.


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